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'COLLECTION OF FOREIGN AUTHORS 

No. X. 




ARIADNE 


FROM THE FRENCH OF 

HENRY GREVILLE 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
549 BROADWAY 551 



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COLLECTION OF FOREIGN AUTHORS, 

No. X. 


ARIADNE. 


VOLUMES ALREADY PUBLISHED 


I. SAMUEL BROHL AND COMPANY. A Novel. 
From the French of Victor Cherbulikz. i voh, 
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II. GERARD’S MARRIAGE. From the French oi 
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III. SPIRITE. A Fantasy. From the French of Theo- 

phile Gautier. Paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 
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cloth, 75 cents. 

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cloth, 75 cents. 

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cloth, $1.00. 

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Louis Ulbach. i vol., i6mo. Paper cover, 60 
cents; cloth, $1.00. 

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cover, 50 cents ; cloth, 75 cents. 


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A E I A D N E 

I 

A NOVEL 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
549 AND 551 BROADWAY 
1878 




COPYKIGHT BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 


AEIADE'E. 


CHAPTER I. 

The first class was absorbed in deep study. A 
scorching August sun shone on the roofs of sheet-iron, 
and was reflected through the great windows, which 
were half -shut ; a storm seemed to be rising in the 
distance, while the professor, in a solemn voice, was 
explaining the causes of the decay of the House of 
Austria to scholars who were half-asleep. The first 
three in the class, the most intelligent, and consequent- 
ly favorites with the professor, were taking notes, 
which would he of use to them in the final examina- 
tions, before leaving the institute. The governess, 
a pedantic, stiff old maid, continued crocheting her 
interminable afghan, which no one in the establish- 
nient had seen her begin. From time to time she 
would cast her vigilant eye upon the juvenile band 
before her. 


6 


ARIADNE. 


Suddenly, in the midst of this solemn scene, there 
was an extraordinary interruption, which had never 
occurred before in the young ladies’ institute under 
the special patronage of her Highness the Grand 

Duchess of X . The professor was astonished, 

the pupils burst out laughing, while the governess 
was enraged, indignant, at the sound of a chromatic 
scale sung by a rich contralto voice. Even the maps 
on the wall seemed to be affected by the vibrations of 
the song. 

‘‘ Ranine ! ” thundered out the governess. 

The young girl thus called by her surname, ac- 
cording to the custom in institutes, stood up, with 
bowed head, ready to receive a scolding. 

“ Come here. Ranine ! ” said the governess, “ here,” 
her threatening finger pointed to the professor’s chair 
— he was still stupefied with amazement. “ Come 
here, and make your excuses to the professor.” 

The culprit approached him slowly, with arms 
hanging down at her sides, her head bowed, weighed 
down, as it were, but not under the burden of shame, 
rather under the weight of her heavy wealth of blonde 
hair, which was as golden as wheat during the harvest- 
time. 

Why did you sing during the lesson ? ” asked 
the dame, without waiting for the guilty one to come 


ARIADNE. 


7 


near her. Ranine advanced a few steps, stopped be- 
fore the chair, and lifted her great gray eyes timidly 
to the professor without replying at once. 

I pray you, sir,” said she, with her rich contralto 
voice — “ I pray you to excuse me. I did not wish 
to disturb the lesson ; I did not mean to do it.” 

The whole class were waiting for the last word, 
with malice rankling in their hearts, and their laugh- 
ter only restrained because the formidable governess 
was present. 

‘‘ How ! you did not mean to do it ? ” cried she, 
indignantly. “Is it possible one can sing without 
meaning it? You trifle with your superiors. Ranine ! 
You will pay dearly for this ! ” 

Ranine slightly shrugged her shoulders, which 
were left uncovered by the brown, low-necked dress, 
the uniform of Russian institutes. 

“I can do nothing more,” said she. “I regret, 
mademoiselle and monsieur, to have caused such a 
disturbance ; but it was not my fault. When I want 
to sing it hurts me here ” — she put her hand on her 
round, white neck — “ and I must sing or be suffo- 
cated.” 

The professor, more and more astonished, looked 
at the governess to be assured that Ranine was in 
her right mind ; but the governess had stuffed her 


8 


ARIADNE. 


crochet into a cotton bag — always a proof of great an- 
ger — and sat with arms folded on her afghan. 

‘‘ Enough, mademoiselle ; we will speak of this 
again,” said she, majestically. “ Take your seat.” 

Ariadne Ranine, in going to her seat, which was 
the last and the worst, heard many unkind remarks 
from her companions. 

“ I was explaining, young ladies,” said the profess- 
or, adjusting on his flat nose a pair of refractory eye- 
glasses, ‘‘that, among the many causes for the decay 
of the House of Austria, we must notice first — ” 

That chromatic scale which so suddenly inter- 
rupted the misfortunes of the House of Austria had 
upset him so completely that he forgot the two most 
important causes of Austrian decadence ; he stam- 
mered, ended a worthless lesson, and put down a zero, 
or mark of “ very bad,” for Ranine. The poor girl 
had never opened her mouth — except to sing. 


CHAPTER II. 

When the lesson was finished, the whole class dis- 
persed through the vast halls, and of course the chro- 
matic scale was the subject of conversation. Ariadne, 
for the first time in the seven years she had lived in 


ARIADXE. 


9 


the institute, was surrounded, and asked a thousand 
questions. 

“ Why did you sing ? ” 

“ Did you want to play the fool ? ” 

“ Or did you make a bet that you would sing ! ” 

“ No,” replied a tall brunette, with wicked eyes ; 
“ it was to fascinate the teacher with her charming 
voice.” 

Ariadne shook her head. 

‘‘I did not wish to fascinate any one. I know 
very well that I am not charming ; but I love to sing, 
it does me good ; and, when the spirit moves me, it is 
stronger than I am, and I must sing.” 

“ WTiat affectation ! ” cried out her charitable com- 
panions. “You can’t make us believe that. Grabi- 
nof is going to report you, and you will be ordered to 
call on the directress, and she will perhaps expel you.” 

“ I can’t help it,” said the young girl, with stoical 
indifference. “ They can send me away if they like ; 
I cannot force them to keep me.” 

Ariadne Ranine was of no particular interest at 
this moment, as there were none to side mth her. 
Every one gave her the cold shoulder, and once more 
she was in her usual loneliness. 

During this time “the Grabinof” (as the young 
ladies of the institute irreverently called her) had 


10 


ARIADNE. 


made her complaint. The inspectress, highly indig- 
nant, limped to the apartment of the directress. She 
had swollen limbs ; some said she was suffering now 
from the follies of her youth — wearing tight shoes. 

The grand duchess, titulary protectress of the In- 
stitute of St. , was represented, much to her dis- 

credit, by Madame Batourof, widow of a general who 
had been aide-de-camj) to the emperor, and had died 
in the service from his wounds. In recognition of his 
merits, his widow was placed in the envied and en- 
viable position as directress of one of the finest insti- 
tutes in Russia. • 

The position was not solely honorary ; the emolu- 
ments were munificent, a handsome house was pro- 
vided in the heart of the city, with carriage and 
horses — all at the expense of the state ; it also in- 
cluded food, wood, oil, the gratuitous services of nu- 
merous flunkeys, who were well enough paid by their 
filchings to keep from murmuring about the govern- 
ment’s meagre appointments. The directress had ab- 
solute control and revision over all the bills presented 
monthly for supplies to the establishment. “ Evil to 
him who evil thinks ! ” During the twenty-seven years 
of her administration, her creatures had not found life 
hard, though many had died dmdng that time. The 
directress, left without any personal fortune, had 


ARIADNE. 


11 


reared, dowered, and married three daughters ; four 
sons had entered the army — it is to he hoped they 
kept a strict account, for each had horses and equi- 
pages. They had all “feathered their nests” well. 
Where was the wrong ? 

There was another side to the picture. The young 
ladies in the institute were from good families, almost 
all were placed there by imperial munificence, or 
admitted by high recommendation or by paying 
handsome board ; and many were the bitter com- 
plaints about the miserable fare and short allowance. 

They were brought there plump and rosy ; seven 
or eight years after — the rule of the establishment 
being that they should not return home during the 
holidays — they were sent back to their astonished 
mothers pale, emaciated, with most unnatural appe- 
tites, craving such things as chalk and cucumber- 
parings. 

“ The result of hard study,” said the teachers, smil- 
ing. “ These dear girls have studied so hard to pass 
brilliant examinations ! They have overtaxed their 
strength.” 

The young girls had not really worked harder than 
others ; but they had eaten so little during the years 
they were growing that it took several seasons to 
recover from the pallor and unhealthy look acquired 


12 


ARIADNE. 


in the institute. Providence, on the other hand, 
seemed to watch over the directress’s family — eleven 
chubby little children dined with her every Sunday. 

The Grabinof and the inspectress found the direc- 
tress in her library, where she had, for twenty-seven 
years, listened to the complaints of her subordinates. 
The usual calmness was visible on her distended coun- 
tenance, now wrinkled by time, and having a vul- 
gar, coarse expression, under which lay the coldest in- 
difference and selfishness. Among those who were 
honored by madame’s intimacy, very few understood 
her. 

“Well, my dear, what do you want with me?” 
said Madame Batourof, in a coarse voice, as soon as 
she saw Grabinof. “ What news of our first class ? ” 

The bevy of teachers in their blue dresses, who 
surrounded the directorial chair, made way for the 
new-comer to approach. 

“A most disgraceful thing occurred this afternoon 
during the history-lesson. Ranine began suddenly to 
sing ! You can fancy the confusion, Your Excel- 
lence ! It was unheard of ! ” 

A murmur of horror, respectfully restrained by 
the august presence of the directress, followed this 
strange news. 

“She sang?” replied she, in addressing the Gra- 


ARIADNE. 


13 


binof. “And what did she sing? Anything im- 
proper ? ” 

“ Your Excellence ; only a scale. 

The assistants, all in blue dresses and caps with 
blue ribbons, rolled their eyes heavenward ; but heav- 
en seemed to remain unaffected. 

“ A scale ? ” repeated the directress : “ a simple 
scale ? ” 

“ Chromatic, Your Excellence,” said Grabinof. 

The hands of all the teachers were raised in holy 
horror. 

“ What reason did she give ? ” asked the direc- 
tress, after a moment’s reflection. 

“ She said it was not her fault, that an irresistible 
impulse forced her to sing. She is a very bad scholar, ' 
Your Excellence.” 

“ Yes, I know,” said her Excellence, slowly, reflec- 
tively ; “ a poor orphan — no family, no aptness. She 
is pretty, blonde ? ” 

“ Yes, Your Excellence, blonde ; as for being 
pretty, I don’t think she is ; we have young ladies in 
the first class who are real beauties — Rozof, Raoumof, 
Orline— ” 

“ Yes, I know,” interrupted the directress, with a 
caustic smile, “ the representatives of our most noble 
families are perfect beauties, and among the poor ones 


14 


ARIADNE. 


some are pretty, too ; and it is well there are some. 
Ranine is pretty : a suj)erh voice ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, Your Excellence,” said Grabinof, obsequi- 
ously, not daring to contradict. 

‘‘ She sings in chapel, and takes part in the sing- 
ing-lessons, does she not ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, Your Excellence.” 

Madame Batourof reflected a moment, then mo- 
tioned to the governess to leave. 

“ You may send her to me after supper. I wish 
to speak to her myself.” 

Grabinof went out. If the expression were not 
banished from polite parlance, we would say she was 
completely “ squelched.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Aeiadne was plunged in meditation, while wait- 
ing for the summons ; she was not afraid of punish- 
ment ; she had experienced not a little, and was not 
much the worse for it. More duties, some repri- 
mands, less recreation — all these had little effect upon 
her lazy temperament. Ariadne was a bad scholar ; 
she had no love of learning. Seeing favors always 


ARIADNE. 


15 


showered upon tlie rich and well-born, she had begun 
to look mth contempt upon the patient labor of her 
companions of more humble rank, who studied really 
to learn. Ariadne was the poorest, and of the most 
humble parentage in the institute ; it is not astonish- 
ing then she should have so little ambition for learn- 
ing. For her, the road to learning was full of thorns. 

She loved but two things in the world, her sing- 
ing-lesson, and the beautiful chapel of the institute. 
The singing-lesson had many disagreeables also, al- 
though the teacher was partial to Ariadne, who had 
such a superb voice and innate love for music. She 
dared not always praise her, for fear of making the 
less gifted envious, and consequently often found 
fault with her. 

“ You are ridiculous. Ranine ; you sing as if you 
were at the opera,” said she one day to Ariadne. 

The young ladies were studying for some private 
festival a piece of five parts ; the words were not 
worthy of the deep feeling which Ariadne threw into 
them. 

“ She is aspiring to the opera, madame,” said a 
beautiful young girl, who sang abominably false. 
“ Ranine wants to be a prima donna.” 

“ It would be better for her to learn to write 
French correctly,” replied the singing - teacher, in a 


16 


ARIADNE. 


harsh tone of voice. “ Try again, young ladies ; 
Ranine, a little less expression, if you please.” 

From that day Ariadne had to sing in the sim- 
plest, coldest manner, exercises which she usually per- 
formed with passion and feeling. She dwelt less 
on the accents, shortened the rests, sang the insignifi- 
cant, meaningless words with no expression ; in fact, 
sang as badly as she could. She did not exactly suc- 
ceed, however ; she only provoked fewer slurs upon 
her dramatic powers. 

In the chapel it was another thing. She was pas- 
sionately fond of it. The little church in the insti- 
tute, with its pale pink walls, filled with pictures and 
images of saints, tapestry, and embroideries in silk 
and glass beads, in fact, all sorts of work done by 
the four hundi’ed young recluses, was to Ariadne a 
new world. 

The liturgical choir of this chapel was composed 
of the finest voices in the institute ; the deacon and 
two precentors trained them in their responses ; their 
task was an easy one, for only those were admitted 
who were willing to do their best. Ariadne had been 
a member for three years. Her deep contralto voice 
made her indispensable ; indeed, she was the choir’s 
mainstay. 

As soon as the door closed upon the “ Holy of 


ARIADNE. 


17 


Holies,” and tlie deacon with his deep voice led the 
first verse of the “ Ectenia ” (the prayer before the 
offertory), Ariadne would shut her eyes, and appear 
to be in another world. The deepest notes of her vel- 
vety voice seemed to sustain at every response those 
words, ‘‘ Lord have mercy upon us.” When one of 
those strange, sweet modulations would make even 
the profane look up, sad and weird, like an ^olian 
hai'p, the rich voice of Ariadne would change to a 
tone of prayer and supplication. 

The liturgy was not for her a collection of canoni- 
cal words, to be repeated every Sunday, every fes- 
tival — and there are festivals enough in the Russian 
ritual ! She threw into her prayer all the passion 
which had been suppressed during the week. The 
hymns, which were part of the service, though mean- 
ingless words, she sang with great pathos, and with 
the profound feeling of a martp’ confessing his faith. 
All the sentiment in her still undeveloped nature 
seemed to come out and be wafted heavenward with 
the incense. 

Until the spring of this year Ariadne had kept up 
very well. Always the last in her studies, she had 
succeeded in reaching the first class, which preceded 
graduation ; one year more, and she would be seven- 
teen years old, and would return to her family. 


18 


ARIADNE. 


The word “ family ” was a cruel derision to Ari- 
adne. Her parents left her an orphan before she 
could stand alone ; an aunt, burdened with many chil- 
dren, took her out of charity until the institute opened 
its doors, but not very willingly, judging from 
expressions which greeted Ariadne upon her en- 
trance. The aunt was dead, her cousins were scat- 
tered; seven years in an institute were enough to 
isolate young girls, without family or fortune, from 
the world. Ariadne would leave in one year — ^but to 
go whither ? 

She had never consulted anybody. Her proud, un- 
social nature had never known the sweetness of con- 
fidence. If she had wept in her loneliness, only 
her pillow knew it. She would leave the institute ; 
be sent to some charitable lady with a little money 
furnished by the government ; there she would learn 
the world, and what she had to expect from it. 

Suddenly an imperious, irresistible longing rose 
in her breast ; she wanted to sing, she must sing. 
Sometimes, in her class, during study, at recreation, 
in the dining-room, even in the silence of the night, 
she felt a sort of tickling in the throat, as if the im- 
prisoned notes must burst forth. The horrible con- 
straint which Ariadne suffered all the time, the efforts 
she made to clinch her teeth and keep in her voice, 


ARIADNE, 


19 


were almost unbearable. She grew thin and pale ; 
her character changed ; she became morose. For fear 
of doing something which would excite the wrath of 
the faculty, she was in constant dread. Fortunately 
summer had come ; the recreation in the large garden, 
shaded by linden trees, gave Ariadne a little freedom, 
without which she would have fallen ill. Almost al- 
ways alone, she would walk up and down the most 
secluded paths, singing in a low voice everything she 
could think of. 

Sometimes she sang airs without words, rhythm, or 
time. She seemed to give out her soul, like a dove 
that dares not coo : she murmured melodies which 
came to her girlish imagination, and almost whispered 
the scales and exercises so as not to be heard. Thus 
she passed three months, during which her beauty 
faded and her soul expanded. 

But autumn soon comes in Russia ; in August the 
evening walks cease ; when the days are damp the 
morning walk is forbidden. The sorrows of Ariadne 
commenced again, and went so far that, after several 
days and nights of suffering, the young girl could not 
bear it any longer, when occurred the incident which 
we have described. 

Grabinof found her scholar so stolid, it made her 
furious. 


20 


ARIADNE. 


‘‘ What are you doing there ? ” she asked, roughly, 
right in Ariadne’s ear. 

The girl trembled as she looked at her persecutrix 
with a disdainful air, and replied : 

‘‘ I am doing nothing.” 

“ Are you not ashamed to be always idle ? If you 
had a little thought you would do something — ” 

‘‘Embroider slippers for you like Samarine, or 
make a border for your afghan like S6rof ! I would 
do so, but I have no money to buy slippers with, and 
you do not love me enough to allow me to work on 
your afghan. It is not my fault if you do not love 
me and I have no pocket-money.” . 

Mile. Grabinof, burning with rage, tried to find a 
sharp answer, but could not, and walked away indig- 
nant. 

After the meagre supper, while the young ladies 
were enjoying their recreation, the governess came out 
of her room, which opened on the corridor. 

“ Ranine ! ” cried she, with a shrill voice, “ ma- 
dame the directress sends for you.” 

Every malicious, wicked eye was turned upon Aii- 
adne, who rose quietly, laid down the book she was 
reading, and went up-stairs. The glances of her 
schoolmates followed her. 

“They will expel her,” said a compassionate voice. 


ARTADNE. 


21 


“It will be no more than she deserves,” replied 
Grabinof, coldly. 

“ Horrible creature ! that Grabinof,” whispered an 
independent girl, “ isn’t she hateful to-day ; I wish I 
had her by the nose ! ” 

“ I wish you had. Are you coming to the dining- 
room to-night ? ” 

“ Hush ! ” said the independent one, called Olga. 
She looked all around her, then said in a low tone : 
“Hot to-night — to-morrow night.” 

The two friends walked toward the governess. 

“ Well, my dear Mile. Grabinof,” said Olga, “ it is 
a long time since I did a row on your afghan. Give 
me your needle and let me work a little.” 

“ Hot to-night, my dear, not to-night, it is too late ; 
but to-morrow if you wish,” said Mile. Grabinof, as 
she rolled up the precious work. 

“ The old mummy ! do you know,” said Olga, 
“ she commenced that afghan when she thought she 
was going to marry Prince Miravanti Fioravanti, our 
Italian ambassador in the time of Peter the Great — 
but he already had three wives in foreign countries.” 

The two friends ran along, tickling each other, and 
giggling, until they reached the door of the dormitory, 
where, with feigned politeness, neither would pass the 
other. 


22 


ARIADNE. 


After going up tlie long stairs, tlirough the halls 
and across the immense drawing-rooms, Ariadne, who 
did not hurry herself, at last reached the antechamber 
of the directress’s apartment. A footman in livery 
opened the door for her, and there she found a 
housekeeper, the confidante of her mistress, guarding 
the passage-way. She made a sign to Ariadne to 
enter, remaining silent on the threshold. The young 
girl stepped forward, opened one of the folding 
doors which was half covered with large woolen cur- 
tains, made a bow, closed the folding-door behind her, 
and waited, with eyes cast down, and arms hanging 
listlessly at her side. 

‘‘ Who is there ? ” said the directress. 

“ Ranine,” answered the culprit. 

‘‘ Come nearer ! ” said the directress, in a milder 
tone than Ariadne expected. 

She obeyed, and stood under a lamp so covered 
with a shade that it threw a sombre gloom around the 
room heavily draped with curtains. 

At the end of the room was a large sofa, the wood- 
work massively carved, covered in light blue damask. 
Blue was the color of the institute, therefore all the 
curtains and draperies were of that color, which was 
quite bearable in the day, but at night looked dark 
and funereal. 


ARIADNE. 


23 


Another lamp of more elegant form was shaded by 
a reflector, which threw the light upon a full-length 
portrait of the Grand Duchess, protectress of the es- 
tablishment, that hung over the sofa where Madame 
Batourof always sat. Malicious tongues had asked 
secretly if the flowers, which were always fresh before 
the portrait, were for the fictitious or the real direc- 
tress. Two other full-length portraits, of the emperor 
and empress, hung opposite to each other. These had 
no lights. 

As Ariadne approached the lamp, she discovered 
that Madame Batourof was not alone. Ensconced in 
a large arm-chair, with hands quietly folded, sat a 
woman of about fifty years, who looked fixedly at the 
young girl, but with no malice in her glance, like that 
in Madame Batourof’s black, piercing eyes. Ariadne 
did not lose her self-possession. 

“It was you who sang in the class?” asked the 
directress. 

“ Yes, Madame Superior,” replied Ariadne. 

The title of “Superior” is given by courtesy to 
the dii’ectresses of these establishments, although their 
functions are entirely secular. 

“ What motive prompted you to cause this dis- 
turbance ? ” asked Madame Batourof in a calm voice. 

Ariadne bowed her head, and could not answer. 


24 


ARIADNE. 


She would have to tell of her agonies, her irresistible 
desire to sing — the explanation was too long, and what 
was the use ? Was it not better to be punished ? 

“ Speak ! ” said the superior with anger. 

‘‘I must sing, I suffer when 1 do not,” said the 
offender, without lifting her head. 

Where do you suffer ? ” 

Ariadne pointed to her throat. 

‘‘Now, at this moment, do you suffer?” 

The young girl bowed her head. 

“ Sing then.” 

This command was given as quietly as if it were 
an easy thing to sing in the midst of a reprimand. 
Ariadne looked in the impassible face of the directress, 
and found she was not joking. The young girl wanted 
to ask a question, but could not, ’she was almost 
blinded by the light which shone in her face. 

“ You sing in the chapel, do you not?” asked the 
lady in the chair, who for the first time gave any sign 
of life. 

“Yes, madame,” replied Ariadne, encouraged by 
the benevolent voice of her new interlocutor. 

“ Sing for me the hymn to the Virgin.” 

“ I know only my part,” replied Ariadne, gently. 

“ Sing it,” said the directress. 

Ariadne commenced, and immediately the room 


ARIADNE. 


25 


was filled by ber rich, full voice. Everything seemed 
to tremble in the vibration, the nicknacks on the eta- 
ghreSy the crystal lustres of the chandeliers : in fact she 
seemed to inspire life into inanimate objects. 

Ariadne sang her part of contralto slowly. Her 
eyes fixed in vacancy, she appeared to be looking with- 
in herself, at some mysterious object, some solemn, 
though not mystic vision. She sang almost without 
moving her lips ; her mouth wide open, her head thrown 
back, she was calm, statuesque, as if in ecstasy. 

When she finished the hymn, she was silent. The 
charm of that voice was so powerful that it had over- 
come anger and mockery. The superior exchanged 
glances with her visitor, and in this look there was 
something more than surprise — there was admiration. 

‘‘Do you know anything besides the liturgy?” 
asked the superior. 

“ I know the exercises.” 

“ Sing very slowly a minor scale,” said the lady 
with gray hair — “ very slowly ; commence with the 
low A.” 

Ariadne began. Was it the kindly voice of the 
old lady which aroused in her bosom new emotions ? 
She sang the scale with such a tone of prayer and sup- 
plication that, when she struck the high A, the two 
ladies felt as if an angel had been singing. 

2 


26 


ARIADNE. 


“ Lower,” said the superior. 

The voice of Ariadne, in tones of anger and deep 
despair, descended the scale, and dwelt long on the 
low E. 

“ It is wonderful ! ” said the visitor, falling hack in 
her chair. 

“ She has really a remarkable voice,” said the di- 
rectress ; “ but that is no reason she should annoy the 
classes. You have caused a great scandal.” 

“ I made my excuses to the lady in the class, and 
to our professor,” said Ariadne ; ‘‘ now I humbly 
offer them to you, madame.” 

She inclined her head, but with so much dignity 
that the visitor was struck by it. 

‘‘ For your love of me,” said she, in Italian to the 
directress, “forgive her. This girl ^vi\l be a great 
artist.” 

“ For my love of you, I will do so,” said Madame 
Batourof, smiling. She was glad of an excuse to 
do what she had already made up her mind to do. 

“ You will go every day during recreation to the 
music-room, and sing there alone,” said the superior, 
as if she had inflicted the severest punishment. “You 
may go.” 

Ariadne, astonished, looked at the two women ; 
the brow of the directress showed sternness, while the 


ARIADNE, 


27 


visitor seemed pleased at tlie unexpected termination 
of the interview. 

According to custom, Ariadne bowed and kissed 
the superior’s hand ; and, moved by some impulse, she 
raised the other’s lady’s hand to her lips, then made a 
low courtesy as she went toward the door. Just as 
she was going out, the visitor said to her, ‘‘Sing 
another exercise.” 

Ariadne stopped and sang one of the most brill- 
iant exercises. It was full of happiness ; trills fol- 
lowed each other as joyously as birds taking their 
flight. When she had finished, without taking breath, 
she said : 

“ Thank you, madame.” 

As soon as she closed the door, she glided through 
the hall to her dormitory, and confided her joys and 
tears to her sole confidante — ^her pillow. 

“ I am not sorry,” said the directress to her friend, 
“ to vex Mile. Grabinof a little ; she has been finding 
fault with every one lately.” 

Thus was the wish of the handsome brunette real- 
ized. 


28 


ARIADNE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The astonishment was very great when, the next 
day, Mile. Ranine was seen going toward the music- 
room, and greater still when Grabinof tried to stop 
her, and she informed her, distinctly and haughtily : 

“ It is by Madame the Superior’s order : and,” 
she added, “you are not on duty to-day.” 

Mile. Grabinof almost fell backward ; but she 
recovered sufficiently to realize what she heard. She 
was really not on duty, for the teachers took turns 
every other day ; thus she had time to make all the 
inquiries she desired. - lliat hour of singing was 
rather a reward than a punishment for Ariadne. There 
was something at the back of it, and Mile. Grabinof 
was determined to find out what it was. 

When the young ladies were going into class, there 
arose great noise and confusion. Four or five of the 
oldest and handsomest ran to the staircase, where they 
could look over the railing into the vestibule. Just 
then two young officers, friends of one of the direc- 
tress’s sons, were taking off their overcoats before pay- 
ing their respects to the venerable lady. 

Glances were exchanged, faint smiles and move- 


ARIADNE. 


29 


ment of the lips, between the visitors and the pretty- 
girls. 

Good-moming, M. Michel,” said a girlish voice ; 
“ how handsome you are ! ” 

There was a deal of laughter, which nearly drowned 
the words. The young man thus called looked up and 
replied impudently, “ I am at your service, mademoi- 
selle.” 

‘‘ A teacher ! ” These words made the girls rush 
from their posts ; and Mile. Grabinof, stiff, straight- 
laced, pinched-up, with crochet under her arm, ap- 
peared too late. 

At the same time came Ariadne dpwn the red car- 
peted stairs, with her music-book in hand, pale, and 
tired from the long singing-lesson, but looking in an 
ecstatic frame of mind. 

“ I have caught you now flirting with the young 
men who have come to see Madame Superior,” said 
Grabinof, who had just heard the last words of the 
girls. 

Ariadne looked at her as if stupefied, and so dis- 
dainfully that the old maid actually trembled with 
rage. 

If I could only catch her ! ” murmured she ; and 
went off with her afghan to visit another teacher, 
who was free also that day. This friend lived on the 


30 


ARIADNE. 


third floor with the little ones, where the two often 
took their coffee together when off duty. 

The first thing Mile. Grabinof did was to tell her 
dear Annette how unjustly she had been treated. 
“ Fancy, my dear ! Madame Superior not only did 
not punish Ranine, but gave her permission to sing 
every afternoon.” 

“ It is dreadful ! ” said the dear little Annette, 
adding another lump of sugar to her coffee. ‘‘ And 
what did you say ? ” 

‘‘ What do you think 1 said ? I said nothing at 
all ; the first I knew of it was when that horrible girl 
told me of madame’s orders.” 

“ They told you nothing of it ! ” exclaimed the 
astonished friend. Mile. Grabinof thought she had 
better modify the statement a little. “ The inspectress 
did tell me of Madame Superior’s decision. If she 
had not, do you suppose I would have allowed that 
girl to go to the music-room ?” 

The dear Annette knew from experience that she 
must not believe word for word all that her friend 
said, so she did not notice her slight mistake. “And 
to think, too,” continued Mile. Grabinof, “that in 
coming from her music-lessons she had time to flirt 
with the two Mirsky ! ” 

“ What Mirsky ? ” 


ARIADNE. 


31 


“ The brothers Mirsky ; they came to call on Ma- 
dame Superior.” 

Dear Annette was silent a moment, when she fin- 
ished her cup of cofiEee and put it in the saucer. As 
she took the handle of the coffee-urn to pour out the 
second cup of coffee, she gazed into her friend’s face 
with a knowing look. 

“ Have you noticed that those Mirsky always 
come during recreation ? Did you know that ? ” 

Grabinof started, and looked at her friend as if 
she had been a small model of Medusa’s head “ Ko,” 
said she, slowly, “ I did not notice it, but it is so.” 

Well, my dear, watch that, as well as some other 
things.” The governess was so struck by the tone in 
which her friend said these enigmatical words that 
she forgot to sweeten her second cup of coffee, and 
made a face as she tasted it. 

“ This is very serious,” said Annette, a little 
amused at the grimace ; ‘‘ you don’t keep a strict 
lookout in your class, for you have a lot of pretty 
girls who are up to fun.” 

“Ranine?” asked Mile. Grabinof, coming back 
to her all-absorbing subject. Annette shrugged her 
shoulders. 

“ Ranine has neither money nor friends, and it is 
not the poor girls who are up to mischief in schools. 


32 


ARIADNE. 


I was governess before you, and I have seen a good 
deal, but I think your young ladies try you more than 
they would me.” 

“Madame Banz is a goose,” said Mile. Grabinof, 
thus slandering the quarrelsome, superficial character 
of the lady who shared with her the perilous honor of 
keeping the first class in order. 

“It is not solely the fault of Madame Banz. You 
have some responsibility, for, thanks to our system of 
education, we teachers know our scholars from the 
time they are ten years old ; you ought to know those 
who would take advantage of you.” 

“ But,” stammered Grabinof, a little upset by the 
rebuke, “ except Ranine, who is nobody, they are all 
well brought up, nice girls.” 

“ Do you know what is going to happen to you 
one of these days ? ” said Annette impatiently. “ Ho ? 
Well, your twenty-two years of service will be a dead 
loss to you, and you will find yourself in a retreat on 
half-pay.” 

“ Why ? ” exclaimed the unhappy Grabinof. She 
felt her hair stand on end. 

“Because you will not see what is going on, or 
suffer me to explain it to you.” 

“But what is going on?” exclaimed Grabinof, 
greatly terrified. Annette looked at her dear friend 


ARIADNE. 


33 


a moment, saw slie was in earnest, then whispered a 
few words in her ear, which fell like a thunderbolt 
upon her companion ; she sank back into her chair as 
green in color as a young cucumber. 

“ In my class ; Heavens ! ” said she in a low voice. 
“ In my class ; and their names ? ” 

“ Their names ! you should be able to tell me 
them.” 

Mlle. -Grabinof wrung her hands in a most tragic 
manner. 

“ How did you find that out ? ” said she, when she 
recovered a little her self-possession. 

“ From my chambermaid.” (Each teacher had her 
maid, whom she selected and paid ; we can imagine 
what a variety of hateful elements was thus intro- 
duced into the institute.) “ F4vronia is intimate with 
one of the soldiers who cleans the dining-rooms ; she 
pretends he is going to marry her, so there are no 
secrets about the affair. How you know why I say 
the girls are not closely watched.” 

Mile. Grabinof drew a long sigh. 

How can one find out the names ? ” 

“ Of those young men ? They may be the two 
brothers Mirsky. That is very possible.” 

“ Are there but two ? ” 

Annette laughed. 


34 


ARIADNE. 


Allow me to suggest again that you are revers- 
ing the order of things ; it is you who should inform 
me ; I think, however, there are three.” 

“ Who lets them in ? ” 

“ Anybody. With that golden key, you know.” 

They both drew a long sigh; and there was reason 
to sigh, for they had lost the last charm of woman- 
hood, kindness of heart. 

‘‘ What must be done ?” groaned Grabinof, “ I will 
inform Madame Superior, for such an opprobrium — ” 

Annette shrugged her shoulders with an air of 
commiseration. 

“ My dear friend,” said she, kindly, “ either your 
misfortune has caused you to lose your reason, or you 
are not practical. You know your plan did not suc- 
ceed with Ranine, why should you try it a second 
time ? Suppose all prearranged, what would you 
do?” 

Mile. Grabinof did not try to think what she 
would do under the circumstances, but wrapped her 
long, bony hands around her hairy arms, and said : 

“ Advise me, my dear Annette ; I will submit to 
your superior wisdom, and do as you tell me.” 

The triumphant friend commenced a series of ex- 
hortations and suggestions, which lasted until the end 
of the study-hours. “ And now,” concluded Annette, 


ARIADNE. 


35 


when she heard a grand hubbub, which always an- 
nounced the professor’s departure, “ go carry out your 
plan of battle.” 

The two friends embraced each other tenderly, like 
two noble souls linked together in a great cause, and 
Grabinof rushed down to the lower floor like a fright- 
ened hind. 


CHAPTER V. 

The dormitory of the first class was deep in the 
the quiet of their first sleep. The long line of lit- 
tle white beds, without curtains, but with immacu- 
late covers, was lighted by two lamps which hung be- 
fore the images of saints. The outlines of the grace- 
ful forms were scarcely distinguishable in the dim 
light ; the heads of the blonde and the brunette all 
looked alike. 

The governess slept behind a screen at the entrance 
of the dormitory, in a little room which resembled the 
sentiyel-box of Cerberus. In this way she could watch 
the whole dormitory ; but twenty years of service 
dull the faculties. The great clock on the staircase 
had just struck eleven, the reverberation still lingered 
in the vaulted roof, when one of the girls got up, put 


36 


ARIADNE. 


on her slippers and wrapper, regardless of the noise 
she was making, and deliberately walked across the 
dormitory, until she reached the door which opened 
on to the court. It w^as Olga. 

As she went along, she tapped on the shoulder of 
one of her sleeping companions, who soon followed 
her example ; then a third joined them. All three 
were hold enough to open the door, which swung 
noiselessly on its well-oiled hinges, and go out into the 
hall. 

They shuddered, either from fear or cold, and kept 
very close together. The dim light of the great hang- 
ing lamps made the long passages dreary enough. 
Although the thick carpet deadened the sounds of 
footsteps, yet every noise, like the nibbling of mice, 
startled the young giils several times before they 
reached the grand staircase. 

They had to go down one flight, and cross another 
passage, before they reached the dining-room, which 
was situated at the extreme end of the building. All 
was done with such precision that it was evident this 
adventure was an habitual thing. 

The three girls went into the dining-room, and 
there they found three charming young fellows, all 
officers in the army, about twenty years of age, 
and delighted to think they had defied the duen- 


ARIADNE. 


37 


nas. They ran less risk in coming than the girls 
did in meeting them. They came through a little 
door of the dining-room, which opened into the 
kitchen : the kitchen opened into a court, the court, 
by a large gate, into the street. The gate was not 
shut until eleven o’clock at night, and any one could 
come in to visit the numerous inmates of the estab- 
lishment, so it was very easy to enter. More precau- 
tions were necessary to get out ; but, by paying well 
the unarmed soldier who guarded the gate, what 
couldn’t be done ? 

Each of the young ladies had her gallant. The 
dining-room was dimly lighted ; for the only illu- 
mination came from a lantern under a bench that 
was turned toward the wall; but the loving cou- 
ples did not need much light to hear each other, as 
they sat face to face on the benches. 

They talked about everything — the teachers, whom 
they disposed of as they liked — then Ariadne’s affair. 

“Tell me,” said one of the young men, “what 
does this Ranine look like? I am curious to see 
her.” 

This absurd curiosity was punished by a little 
pouting and a lover’s quarrel ; but the others caused a 
reconciliation, and the young girl condescended to for- 
give her gallant by allowing him to kiss her hand. 


38 


ARIADNE. 


The conversation became more and more familiar, 
the couples drew closer together, the institute and its 
doings absorbed their thoughts — for what else had 
these young girls to talk about ? and what more curi- 
ous, odd subjects could they find on which to keep 
up their prattle ? 

‘^You like chalk, then?” asked one of the men, 
with a certain disgust and curiosity. 

“It is excellent when you crunch it with your 
teeth. We always take the pieces that are left after 
the lessons, and divide them. We take good care to 
wrap the bits in little paper ruffles, and the professors 
think we do it out of politeness to them ; but not at 
all, it is because we don’t want their nasty, dirty fin- 
gers to touch what we eat — ” 

“ Oh ! you can’t make me believe,” interrupted one 
of the offlcers, “that you don’t have a little flirtation 
with some of the professors — for instance, that hand- 
some professor of chemistry — ” 

“He?” replied the young girl. “No, indeed ; he 
is too simple ; but our German teacher is lovely — we 
all adore him. Last winter he received eighteen of- 
fers : it was like the whooping-cough, all the class 
had it.” 

“ Ah ! and you, too ? ” asked the good-natured ad- 


mirer. 


ARIADNE. 


39 


He received a little slap for this, but peace was 
soon restored again. 

“ And you ? ” asked a third of his neighbor who 
was trying her beautiful teeth on a bag of sugar 
plums. It is useless to say the young men did not 
come empty-handed, for a large basket of dainties 
made its appearance at the beginning of the frolic, 
and was now lying empty at their feet. 

“I! what, I?» 

“Have you not been in love with your music 
teacher ? ” 

“ Ho,” replied the youthful gourmand. “ I did 
adore our deacon last year, he was so handsome, with 
his long brown hair waving over his shoulders. He 
reminded me of Christ’s pictures, and then, when he 
said in the mass, ‘ Pray the Lord ! ’ it went right 
here.” 

The young girl, instead of putting her hand on her 
heart, put it on her stomach, for there she was really 
more impressionable than anywhere else. 

“ And now ? ” asked the lover in a jealous tone. 

“ How, I love you,” said she. 

Such a declaration and at such a time deserved 
some tender words, but there were none. These 
young men — the oldest was only about twenty years of 
age — and the girls were innocently amusing themselves, 


40 


ARIADNE. 


because they were breaking tbe rules ; they were tast- 
ing forbidden fruit. The triumph of childish perver- 
sity made it sweet. 

‘‘ It is time we went up-stairs,” said Olga ; “ this 
is the hour when Madame Banz sneezes.” 

When Madame Banz sneezed, it was for several 
minutes. 

The young girls gaped without any embarrass- 
ment, politeness only prevented the men from doing 
the same ; then they bade each other a tender 
adieu. 

“ What shall we bring you next time ? ” 

^ Some salt herrings, and onions, and then, my dear, 
some champagne.” 

‘‘ That’s it, champagne, and de foies gras ; we 

will sup together.” 

With this noble resolve, the group separated. . . . 

In returning to their dormitory, the giils were half 
asleep, therefore not so light-footed as they had been ; 
one of them stumbled, and struck a cross which she 
wore around her neck, and it fell all the way down- 
stairs. 

This noise brought out the long, thin head of Gra- 
binof over the railing. She had not been to bed that 
night, but in her vigils had fallen asleep on the staii’- 
case. By the light of the lamp she recognized the 


ARIADNE. 


41 


three culprits, when a shudder of horror shook her 
whole frame. 

“ The three best ! ” said she, “ the prettiest, no- 
blest, and richest. Good Lord ! what will become of 
us?” 

Without waiting for an answer, she returned to 
her bed, to finish the night in sleeplessness. But her 
courage was kept up by two diverse elements ; one was 
the little information she gained while listening over 
the railing ; the other, the joy she would have in ex- 
posing Madame Banz’s stupidity. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The next morning, or rather the same day. Mile. 
Grabinof commenced her duties at early morn ; 
those restless nights had not enhanced her beauty, for 
she had one of those faces which could not bear emo- 
tional efforts. The girls insisted upon knowing how 
their beloved teacher felt, how she had passed the 
night. We will see in this chapter what happened 
to one of the nocturnal rovers. 

“ You look tired, dear mademoiselle,” said Olga to 
her. “ Did you spend a bad night ? But you were 
not on duty.” 


42 


ARIADNE. 


Sucli cunning ! so much aplanb, and such simplic • 
ity, and candor in the tone of the voice ! Grahinof 
felt herself trembling with rage. 

“You are all yellow this morning,” said another ; 
“ has anything disagreeable occurred ? ” 

Ariadne, who was silently eating her piece of bread, 
ventured to look up at Grabinof. She was conscious 
of having caused her some ill-feeling, but her offense 
was not sufficient to make any one yellow ; however, 
the expression of concentrated hatred that met her 
glance made Ariadne turn pale. 

“ Yes,” replied the irascible Grabinof, “ I have 
been wronged; there is justice even in this world, while 
we are waiting for the next.” 

Every eye was turned toward Ariadne, who was 
boiling over with rage and disgust for human frailty. 
Alas ! this was no new feeling for her; she was becom- 
ing more embittered every day. 

The morning passed uneventfully. The three 
guilty ones seemed to have slept well ; the geography 
lesson was rather tedious, and their answers far from 
brilliant ; but these deficiencies were so frequent, the 
professor thought nothing of them. After recreation 
and dinner, Ariadne was going to her singing ; she had 
her roll of music in her hand, and with it accidentally 
knocked the chair on which was Grabinof’s work-box. 


ARIADNE. 


43 


wide open. The contents rolled to the middle of the 
hall, and the precious afghan became entangled in 
the legs of the chair, so that several stitches were 
dropped, and the ball of worsted disappeared. 

“ You did that on purpose ! ” screamed Grabinof, 
as she bounded after her precious work, and hugged 
it to her breast as a mother would her child rescued 
from a wild animal. 

“ You know I did not,” said Ariadne quietly, as 
she stooped to pick up the debris^ and place them 
methodically in the box. 

“It is a falsehood ! Your conduct deserves pun- 
ishment. This is too much insubordination. I forbid 
your singing to-day.” 

Ariadne, still kneeling, with her head bowed, heard 
this order from the teacher ; and, at the last word, 
arose and placed the fatal box on the chair. 

“ My singing-hour,” said she, in a voice trembling 
with passion, “ is a punishment inflicted by Madame 
Superior, and she alone can rescind it. I intend to 
obey her orders, and go now to my singing. If Ma- 
dame Superior removes my punishment, you will have 
the kindness to let me know.” And, without giving 
herself any concern about the fury she left behind 
her, she walked slowly to the end of the hall. 

When she reached the door, and found she was 


44 


ARIADNE. 


alone, she ran to the music-room, shut herself in, fell 
on her knees by the side of the grand piano, and shed 
bitter tears — ^tears of wounded pride, of anger, as 
well as sorrow. 

Wretched, wretched giid ! ” said she, sobbing ; 
“ why does every one wish me harm, when I harm no- 
body ? It is because I am poor.” 

She did not weep long, for anger repressed and 
smothered grief. She sat down before the instrument, 
struck three chords firmly, then commenced the ever- 
lasting solfeggio. The solfeggio seemed to dispii’it 
her. She stopped, closed the book, and let her hands 
fall listlessly in her lap. Was it possible that she was 
losing her love for singing? Had it come to this? 
Would she have a distaste for music — ^her only con- 
solation ? 

“ There is something else besides the solfeggio,” 
said Ariadne to herself, as she ran her fingers over the 
keys, and played some bars of the religious hymns 
which she had been accustomed to sing in chapel, 
and accompanied them with her voice. 

Then she continued improvising and singing with- 
out words. She knew nothing of secular music ; her 
improvisation was entirely original, and there was 
something weird, ecstatic about it. 

She sang ; her powerful, solemn voice seemed to 


ARIADNE. 


45 


send such passionate appeals to that heaven which had 
frowned upon her ; to that world which had scorned 
her ; to all she might have loved and blessed ; to the 
professors, who almost ignored her, while they devoted 
themselves to the pupils on the first bench ; to the su- 
perior, whom the girls called “ mamma,” and who had 
never noticed Ariadne kindly during her seven years 
until the evening before, and whom the young girl 
loved and venerated ; to her companions, who had 
never given her anything but cruel mockeries ; to all, 
to everything, one could love on this earth ! 

Yes, Ariadne had a loving, trusting nature ; she 
was endowed by the fairies with a most precious gift — 
a tender heart, an enthusiastic imagination ; in fact, 
she had the soul of an artist. She had loved, alas ! all 
that surrounded her, but without reciprocity. Who 
wanted her tenderness ? Did not everybody have his 
cares, trials, and friendships ? God alone would refuse 
her nothing. But God was far away, and the bit- 
terness of earth was very near. Ariadne addressed 
her earnest invocation to everything lovable here 
below. 

She sang, and sang until an irresistible emotion 
filled her throat and caused her eyes to dim with tears ; 
but she sang on, pouring forth between her sobs such 
agonizing, sorrowful melody that it filled the whole 


46 


ARIADNE. 


music-room. Tears continued to roll down her pale 
cheeks until they fell on the key-hoard. What she 
sang that day was simply sublime ; but she could never 
remember it. 

As the sound died away, she felt exhausted, over- 
come, and leaned down on the piano. To her great 
astonishment, she felt such a peace of mind, a tran- 
quillity never experienced before. Suddenly she found 
she was ready to brave anything. From the pupil she 
developed into the master. 

Thinking she had lingered a long time, she took 
her book and went into the hall. Oh, horror ! it was 
empty ! In the class-rooms she heard the professors 
giving their lessons. Stupefied with terror, Ariadne 
ran to the stairs to see the hour ; but before she reached 
the steps the clock struck three. 

Three o’clock ! The lesson had begun one hour 
ago — ^would last twenty minutes yet. It seemed im- 
possible to enter the class, and meet the curious, scoff- 
ing eyes of her companions, the cruel glance of Mile. 
Grabinof, and the unscrupulous questioning of the pe- 
dantic professor. To admit to these stupid people 
that she had taken no note of time while singing, wdth 
cheeks blanched by her recent rapture, she felt was 
impossible. It was better to run all risks ; so she sat 
down on the stairs and waited. 


ARIADNE. 


47 


Many times had the girls during recreation prac- 
tised over time ; but they had friends, and some one 
would run and tell them when the hell rang ; even the 
teacher would sometimes warn the too zealous musi- 
cian of the hour. But we must have friends, and he 
on good terms with the teacher. 

Ariadne had nothing to expect from any one. This 
forgetfulness, which Mile. Grahinof should have pre- 
vented, appeared to the young girl full of evil fore- 
bodings. 

“She is conspiring against me,” thought she to 
herself ; “ she wants me to he expelled, that is cer- 
tain.” 

To send Ariadne away from the institute would he 
something like leaving a new-horn hahe under a porte 
cochlre. She would he just as helpless, clothesless, and 
shelterless. It was the frozen river l^eva in perspec- 
tive, after suffering for days all the horrors of hunger 
and cold. Ariadne could not compare her suffering to 
anything else. 

Instead of being overwhelmed, she again experi- 
enced that same quietude she felt in the music-room, 
and lost again in the class-room. A certain inspira- 
tion took possession of her. 

“ I will sing ! ” said the fortuneless orphan to her- 
self ; and her heart was suddenly filled with confidence. 


4:8 


ARIADNE. 


She had one friend and protector, that was Art, which 
had just appeared to her in an ecstatic vision. 


CHAPTER YIL 

While Ariadne was dreaming in the music-room. 
Mile. Grahinof had lost no time. Picking up her 
afghan, she gathered up all the articles which had 
been scattered by the accident and took them to her 
room, which opened on the walk. In crossing the 
vast hall, she saw a pretty group, composed of the 
“ three graces,” as they were called. She waited until 
they came within reach of her voice. 

The “ three graces ” were walking arm-in-arm — 
these little familiarities, so natural and so sweet, were 
not forbidden in institutes in Russia as in France. 
As they came near the watch-dog, they lowered their 
voices, and she called to them : 

‘‘ Come here, dear girls ! ” 

The dear girls raised their heads simultaneously ; 
but they saw in the eyes of the watch- dog there was 
no passing her, even by throiving her a cake — that is, 
a compliment. All three walked into the teacher’s 
room, and she shut the door quietly on her pris- 


oners. 


ARIADNE. 


49 


It was a pretty room, with a high ceiling, and 
walls covered with pictures. In Madame the Supe- 
rior’s room, the grand duchess filled the place of 
honor; with the teachers it was Madame the Supe- 
rior. Even the teacher’s chamber-maid proved her 
loyalty by hanging up the photograph of her mistress. 
Nothing could be wiser. 

The chairs, sofa, and tables were covered with 
fancy articles, work of the girls in their leisure hours. 
The light streamed in through an enormous arched 
window, the sill of which was decorated with grow- 
ing plants, making everything look very inviting in 
the watch-dog’s grotto. Notwithstanding all this, 
the “ three graces ” felt a sort of chill run through 
them when the door was shut on them. Mile. Grabi- 
nof rarely closed the door when she was on duty, and 
those who were honored with a tete-d-t^te seemed in 
no hurry to speak of it. 

The teacher came close to her beloved pupils, 
looked at them quietly, and then said, in a mild 
tone : 

“ I spent the night on the staircase.” 

Two of the culprits blushed suddenly from head 
to foot. Their arms and shoulders, only partially cov- 
ered with a cape of percale, turned a color that would 
make wild strawberries envious. The third, and most 
3 


50 


ARIADNE. 


determined, was Olga. She looked at Mile. Grabinof 
with astonishment, and said, boldly : 

“ What a strange idea — to spend the night on the 
stairs ! ” 

Inwardly the old maid could not but admire her 
pupil’s coolness, and confessed to herself that, under 
the same circumstances, she would not have had so 
much ; but this was not the time to pay compliments. 

“ I saw you go out, my dear, and I saw you come 

in.” 

‘‘ Where were we going ? ” asked the youthful 
offender. 

“ To the dining-room, where three gentlemen were 
waiting for you.” 

“ Dear mademoiselle,” said the guilty one, in a 
most persuasive tone, “you had a bad dream, you 
took cold certainly, and fancied you spent the night 
on the stairs.” 

Mile. Grabinoff shook her head negatively, with- 
out losing her self-possession. 

“Ko, my dear, I dreamed nothing, and I intend to 
inform Madame Superior. Until I return, you will 
remain in my room ; I will put the key in my pocket, 
which will prevent any communication with your ac- 
complices, so that we wdll entrap the young men at 
their next visit.” 


ARIADNE. 


51 


The young girl turned pale at the name of the su- 
perior, hut her invincible pride kept her up. She was 
a descendant of an illustrious race ; sure of her name, 
title, fortune, there was very little she was afraid of in 
this world. 

‘‘And you. Mile. Grabinof, will fall into disgrace 
with Madame Superior for not sooner thinking of pass- 
ing the night on the stairs.” 

At this ill-sounding rebuke, the governess lost all 
the calmness she had armed herself with, and her nat- 
ural temper got the better of her. 

“ Wretch that you are,” said she, “ you defy me 
even here ! I can have you ignominiously driven from 
this establishment, this asylum of innocence, which 
you dishonor by your scandalous intrigues.” 

The young girl straightened herself up proudly. 

“We dishonor no one,” said she, haughtily; “a 
frolic is not a dishonor, even for your establishment, 
which protects innocence. You do not suppose that 
a descendant of the Ruriks could dishonor any one, 
above all herself.” 

This was not the malicious duplicity of her ordi- 
nary language ; it was the insolence of high lineage 
which felt its importance. The two more timid com- 
panions, in finding they were so well sustained, took 
courage, and put on a bold face. 


52 


ARIADNE, 


“ Frolic, if you wish,” replied the governess, who 
felt she must yield a little, “ all such frolics must tar- 
nish the reputation of young girls. You would not 
be allowed such liberty at home.” 

“ At home we are allowed to see young men, and 
talk to them ; here we are bored to death,” retorted 
the young girl. 

“ You are in the institute,” replied Grabinof, “ and 
while you are here you must obey the rules. I intend 
to complain to Madame Superior of your conduct first 
and your insolence afterward.” 

“ And I,” said the little rebel, stamping her foot, 
“ if they want to send me away, I will appeal to the 
emperor, who is my godfather and I will tell him the 
only object we had in receiving the gentlemen was that 
they should bring us something to eat; for our rations, 
so liberally provided by the government, are reduced 
to nothing by the pilferings of our superiors. We 
went to the dining room to get something to eat,” 
concluded the young girl, looking Grabinof full in the 
face. “It was to eat ! Yes. Was it not V ” said she, 
addressing the greediest of the three. “Was it not to 
eat?” 

“ Oh ! yes,” sighed the empty stomach. 

“ Now, see here, mademoiselle, do as you please, 
I admit our imprudence might cause us many dis- 


ARIADNE. 


53 


agreeables, and you also. I think it is better to hush 
the matter up, for we have been sufficiently pun- 
ished by your reprimand and the pain we have caused 
you. Suppose you hush it up, and we will promise to 
be always obedient and grateful.” 

This was spoken with just enough stress to make 
it appear perfectly natural. Peace was soon con- 
cluded. The offenders had to listen to a long scold- 
ing from Mile. Grabinof, who prolonged it until all 
her appropriate expressions became exhausted. It was 
understood they were never to return to the dining- 
room at night; and the young men were to be informed 
by those who let them in that they were to abandon 
their secret expeditions ; and, furthermore, the “ three 
graces ” were tohiphold the teacher, who was so desir- 
ous of shielding them from the shame of public ex- 
posure and all its evil consequences. This last clause 
was presented in less formidable terms, but thoroughly 
understood by the contracting parties. 

‘‘ Now,” concluded Grabinof, “ you will tell me the 
names of the gentlemen.” 

A shrugging of the shoulders, meaning evidently 
“ You ask too much,” was the response of the pretty 
transgressor. 

‘‘ And the name of the soldier who let them in,” 
persisted the old maid. 


54 


ARIADNE. 


She received the same eloquent, silent answer. 

Mile. Grahinof was strongly tempted to go to the 
superior, but her haughty pupil intimidated her weak 
heart, for she had little of the courage of the Romans 
in olden times. 

‘‘You could not wish to exact from us. Mile. Grabi- 
nof, any information which would imply cowardice. It 
is not you who could demand it. The question you 
have asked us is a proof of it ; and notwithstanding 
your stern look, you are glad we did not answer you. 
Will you accept this little trifle as a token of respect, 
from one who feels how much she owes to you, and 
as a pledge of the kind feelings your words have 
aroused ? ” 

The clock struck; the illustrious delinquent clasped 
on the stupefied Grabinof’s arm a gold bracelet which 
she took off her own, and in her haste pinched the 
flesh of the governess, who uttered a little cry of pain 
and fright. After excuses, kisses, and some promises, 
the three girls rushed hurriedly into the hall, where 
they met the dignified, bald-headed professor just go- 
ing into class. 

“ Ranine ! where is Ranine ? ” exclaimed several 
compassionate voices. 

Grabinof looked around her, saw that Ariadne 
was missing, and stood there a half-second with her 


ARIADNE. 


65 


hand on the door-knob. “Shall I send for her?” 
thought she. In her indecision she glanced down at 
the bracelet, that symbol of fidelity and servitude. 
We know not what diabolical thought passed through 
the old maid’s mind, but she shut the door and quiet- 
ly took her seat, with the inseparable afghan, which 
grew several rows in a few minutes. 

While the professor was drawing a complicated 
problem on the blackboard, the youngest of the graces 
whispered to Olga : 

“ Are you going to tell them not to come ? ” 

“ Goodness ! how silly you are ! ” was the only 
answer she received. 

“ Good-by, champagne ! ” sighed a second, who 
loved good things. 

“ Why should we ? ” replied the eldest, proudly ; 
“ we will go to-morrow night. Madame Banz sleeps 
like a marmot, and she snores.” 

“ I will not go ! ” murmured the delicate girl. 

“ Silly thing ! ” replied her elder ; “ I will ! ” 

The professor called her to the blackboard ; she 
had to stand there with the chalk in her hand, which 
was vTapped in gold paper, but her explanation of the 
problem was anything but brilliant. 


56 


ARIADNE, 


CHAPTER YIII. 

The next evening was very eventful. Except the 
visits of the emperor and empress, it had been years 
since there had been such an excitement in the insti- 
tute. 

First, Ariadne was called to the superior’s room 
for having missed her class in mathematics without a 
good excuse. This fresh insubordination was fla- 
grant ; for she could scarcely have been one whole hour 
behind time ! And Grabinof, in making her report, 
took particular pains to dwell on Ariadne’s own con- 
fession : she admitted having returned at three 
o’clock. 

The young girl found in the superior’s room the 
same lady with gray hair who had witnessed her first 
reprimand. 

Madame Sekourof was a neighbor, rather than a 
friend, of the directress ; she was in the habit of spend- 
ing her evenings with the old superior — not that she 
had any great sympathy for her, but sought to avoid 
her own lonely fireside. 

Madame Batourof felt a most sincere, almo^ re- 
spectful esteem for her friend, who was without for- 
tune, yet did much good with her little means. Ma- 


ARIADNE, 


57 


dame Batourof had great faith in her judgment, and 
always listened to her advice in difficult matters, but 
seldom followed it. She said, with a sigh : 

“The theory of life is one thing, the practice 
another, my dear ! ” 

As Ariadne came in, she met the discerning glance 
of those kind, intelligent eyes, and suddenly felt 
strengthened. The old lady thought, if the young girl 
was so soon arraigned before her judge a second time, 
it could not be for any grave offense. The honest 
look of Ariadne did not defy censure, and there was 
no audacity in it, but she would not succumb to an un- 
merited affront. 

“ It is you again, mademoiselle ! ” said the supe- 
rior, with severity. “You are, indeed, incorrigible !” 

“ I forgot myself, madame,” replied Ariadne ; “ I 
beg your pardon. No one came to tell me the hour, 
and I had no watch.” 

“ You must have sung very loud, not to have heard 
the bell ring fof class.” 

“ I did not hear it.” 

When Ariadne remembered her rapture, there 
was a fixedness in her eyes which made them look 
strange. She heard again that celestial music, and 
was transported to another world. 

“ Well, mademoiselle, since you forget the hour, 


58 


ARIADNE. 


you will sing no more ; we will find another punish- 
ment ; you may go ! ” 

Ariadne bowed in silence, and went toward the 
door. When she was half-way, an irresistible impulse 
prompted her to turn toward Madame Sekourof, who 
was looking after her with a sad expression, and 
made her some little friendly signs. Ariadne, with- 
out knowing why, felt her heart less oppressed, and 
she walked toward the hall with a lighter step, until 
she met the triumphant Grabinof who was waiting 
for her, like a spider ready for a fly. 

When the two ladies were alone, Madame Sekourof 
was for a moment silent. 

‘‘ That is an extraordinary girl ! ” said she, gently, 
for fear she might break into her friend’s train of 
thought. 

‘‘Yes,” replied the directress, promptly, showing 
she too was following the same com’se of ideas. “ But 
she has one drawback : her poverty. In a girl of no- 
ble family, that originality would be a charm ; but 
with a fortuneless girl, it is a grave wrong.” 

“ Has she absolutely nothing ? ” 

“Nothing.” 

“ But where will she go when she leaves here ?’” 

The superior made a significant gesture, which 
meant, “Never mind where.” 


ARIADNE. 


59 


“I am sure,” insisted Madame Sekourof, she 
had a good master she would make a superior artist ; 
she has a wonderful voice, and with it such depth of 
feeling, which is so necessary on the stage.” 

“There you are with your theatre puppet! You 
would sell your last dress for a new opera I ” said the 
directress, smiling. 

“ Not exactly. But that girl astonishes me. Has 
she a pleasant disposition ? ” 

“ Until the present time, we have had no trouble 
with her : you know that last class has been most vex- 
ing. It is the age of revolts and other troubles.” 

The superior silently repressed a sigh. 

For several days past, even before the interview 
between Grabinof and her dear Annette, vague ru- 
mors were concentrating in that sort of acoustic 
horn which was called the “faculty’s cabinet.” An 
almost forgotten story, which had nearly cost the 
superior her place and resources twenty years ago, 
had been revived. Why had it been brought out of 
its oblivion ? 

Foolish chambermaids had talked of having seen 
shadows flitting about the pantries ; they pretended 
that the porter was always drunk : these were little 
things in themselves, but they caused the directress 
great uneasiness of mind. 


60 


ARIADNE. 


“ Ranine is sanguine,” said the directress, for she 
dared not allow an old, faithful friend, the most dis- 
creet of women, to divine her thoughts ; “ these san- 
guine girls do not turn out well.” 

“ Yes, when they do not have the means to direct 
their sanguineness toward the summits of ideality. 
Malibran was sanguine, and all who have made a 
name in the fine arts.” 

^‘But, you know, my dear, the Conservatory can- 
not furnish purses to all the girls who take up an idea 
that they can sing.” 

“For all, no ; but for some. Fortunate are those 
who obtain them ! Will you allow me to talk with the 
young girl ? ” 

“ Certainly ; but wait a few days, if you intend to 
spoil her. I don’t want you to do it so soon after my 
reprimand.” 

“Very well,” replied Madame Sekourof. “ I will 
speak to you about her some other time.” 

The conversation touched upon several subjects 
without dwelling upon any, for their thoughts were 
elsewhere ; and very soon they separated. The gener- 
ous, enthusiastic heart of Madame Sekourof was ab- 
sorbed in the thought of making an artist of Ariadne, 
and the directress was reflecting about that old story 
which had been so inopportunely revived in the last 


ARIADNE. 


61 


few days. ‘‘It was in the dining-room the culprits 
were found ! The dining-room could not have been 
well guarded. But who would have thought the de- 
mon of perversity would have prompted a girl to leave 
her dormitory, risk the vigilance of a governess, and 
cross this immense building ? Her evil genius must 
have been very strong. That young girl must be sent 
away.” 

Eleven o’clock struck. The directress, prompted 
by a secret disquietude, rose with difficulty from her 
arm-chair. She was sixty-six years of age, and her 
limbs, swollen from the sedentary life she had lived, 
refused to carry her very far. She went out of her 
parlor, and in the waiting-room found her faithful 
housekeeper, as stiff and scowling as ever. 

“ You, madame ! ” she cried. “ Did you ring ? ” 

“ No ; come with me, Groucha ; take a lamp ; we 
are going to make a tour of inspection.” 

Groucha, terrified, looked at her mistress. An in- 
spection ! It was twenty years since one had been 
made. For years after the unfortunate event which 
had just been revived, the superior made frequent 
tours of inspection ; but since that time surveillance 
had relaxed. Security was a great safeguard, and 
for several years the' directress had not thought of 
making a round. 


62 


ARIADNE. 


“Yes, Groucha, I tell you — a patrol. Let us go.” 

Groucha, awakening to a sense of duty, took a 
lamp in her hand, and, after throwing a shawl around 
her mistress’s shoulders, offered her arm to her, and 
the two women entered the large vestibule. 

All was quiet. The lamps burned dimly ; the great 
clock which stood at the head of the red-carpeted 
staircase marked the flight of time in regular beats ; 
the soldiers — for the institute was guarded by sol- 
diers who had unlimited furloughs — were snoring 
peacefully on the benches in the court. The porter, 
scrupulously attired in his scarlet uniform trimmed 
with black and white eagles on a yellow ground, slept 
in the room adjoining the drummer’s, who guarded 
the outside gate, hlobody was watching the insti- 
tute ; but could it not take care of itself ? The heavy 
bolts, the oaken doors, and the thick walls — were they 
not sufficient protection ? 

“Just see how we are guarded ! ” sighed the supe- 
rior. “ This way, Groucha.” 

Instead of going toward the dormitories, as she 
had expected, the domestic saw with astonishment 
her mistress advance toward the dining-room. Re- 
membering that twenty years ago it was there a dis- 
covery had been made, she recognized the motives 
of her mistress. Groucha thought there was some- 


ARIADNE, 


63 


thing wrong ; and, as she hated all the teachers, she 
was not likely to grieve if some unpleasantness oc- 
curred. 

They walked on slowly ; the superior stopped be- 
fore every door opening on the vast corridor, to see if 
any light came through the cracks. The apartment of 
the inspectress was open according to the regulations, 
but everybody slept soundly. 

Finally the two women stopped before the dining- 
room ; the superior listened with a sort of superstitious 
fear ; would she hear voices there as she did once ? No, 
nothing ! Reassured, she opened the door, and there 
in the dim light appeared before her three beautiful 
disheveled heads, and three young officers, who rose 
immediately when they saw her, and stood as if nailed 
to the spot. 

The most frightful silence followed. The expres- 
sion of the old lady’s face was so full of indignation 
and fury that it was terrible. 

‘‘Yofli here, gentlemen!” said she, finally, giving 
the Mirsky a withering look. “ You, whom I have 
received with such confidence, to whom I have offered 
hospitality ! Betrayers of honor ! You, to enter 
this asylum at night, to corrupt children who are con- 
^fided to me by God and the czar ! You I gentle- 
men ! ” 


64 


ARIADNE. 


She was not now‘ acting a part, for there was no 
mean feeling in her heart. She turned away with a 
gesture so full of contempt and disgust that the young 
men could do nothing but bow their heads and mur- 
mur “ Pardon ! ” 

The old lady’s eyes fell upon the basket of edibles, 
with the promised champagne, and she shrugged her 
shoulders with scorn. 

“ Certainly,” replied she, “ my girls are culpable, 
very, and I do not wish to excuse them ; but they did 
not enter a house at night, delude surveillance, and 
bribe the guards ! What do you expect, gentlemen ? 
Have you come hither with a view to marriage ? But 
they, those children, do they even know who you are ? 
Their position, their fortunes, are they the same as 
yours ? ” 

“We were not tempted by interest, aunt,” said 
the third officer, who until then remained in the back- 
ground ; “ I am to blame : I alone came to see one 
of the young ladies ; my comrades accompanied me 
only.” 

“ You, my nephew ! Ah ! this is too much ! ” cried 
the indignant aunt. “What is the name of the 
lady?” 

“ I cannot tell you, aunt. You can know it easily 
enough, but it is not for me to tell you.” 


ARIADNE. 


65 


Madame Batourof remained silent a moment, then 
continued : 

‘‘ Come, gentlemen, the rules cannot be longer vio- 
lated. I will open the door for you ; it must not be 
thought here that the superior can be deceived.” 
Going toward the door which opened out of the din- 
ing-room into the court, she cried out with a loud 
voice, “Help ! ” 

The soldier on guard came at once, pale and 
trembling. 

“ Take these gentlemen out,” said the superior, 
“and come to me to-morrow morning. Gentlemen, 
you will remain in the regiment as if under arrest, 
until you hear my decision.” 

The three officers bowed respectfully before Ma- 
dame Batourof, who in acknowledgment made a slight 
inclination of the head, and they left ; madame and 
Groucha were alone in the hall. 

“ God has spared me this time,” said she, making 
the sign of the cross ; “ at least I have not seen my 
children disgraced. Groucha, I must know their names 
to-morrow morning. Find them out ! ” 

The superior, supported by her servant, crossed the 
halls once more, climbed up the stairs, and made thor- 
ough investigation in the donnitories. Everything 
was in perfect order. Quite a strong odor of ether 


66 


ARIADNE. 


was perceptible near Mile. Grabinof’s room ; but the 
teachers were often nervous, and this odor was nothing 
unusual in the institute. The superior passed on to 
her own room, her mind much troubled. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Mlle. Grabinof had not needed ether for herself, 
although her nerves had been strongly tested. She 
certainly had every confidence in the promises of her 
pupils, not to leave the dormitory again at night. 
But why did she conceal herself behind the door of 
the dormitory that night instead of going to bed 
quietly ? 

She reproached herself for that vigil, for she was 
very weary from the two preceding bad nights, and 
yet there was a secret interest which kept her there : 
she felt certain of seeing something that night. 

Sure enough, about eleven o’clock she heard the 
door of the dormitory open very softly, when Olga, the 
eldest of the graces, appeared, a little agitated and 
anxious for fear of discovery. She had not advanced 
mor'e than three steps when Mile. Grabinof stood be- 
fore her, mute and menacing as an angel guarding a 
terrestrial paradise. 


ARIADNE. 


67 


The young girl trembled, but showed extraordh 
nary presence of mind. 

“ My dear mademoiselle, you not in bed ! So much 
the better. I came to ask you for some medicine. I 
have had a paroxysm of nervous strangling. I suffer 
horribly. Give me some medicine, I beg of you.” 

She rubbed her throat with so much ease, and so 
naturally, that Mile. Grabinof, although convinced it 
was all a pretext, took her into her room and mixed 
some sugar and water. 

“ Why did you not go to Madame Banz ? ” asked 
she, suspiciously, as she crushed the sugar with a spoon. 
“ She was the lady on duty, and you should have wa- 
kened her instead of leaving your dormitory.” 

“Dear mademoiselle,” replied the roguish girl, “ has 
Madame Banz any heart ? She has a boiled lobster in 
the place of it, I am sure. In the first place, she snores 
so loud it is impossible to awaken her, and then she 
has neither kindness nor civility. Not like you, my 
darling ! And then we are more closely united now, 
and I do not wish to be indebted to anybody but 
you ! ” 

Mile. Grabinof gave her a glass with a few drops 
of ether in it, took her back to her bed, and told her 
if she felt sick again to call out, as she would leave her 
door open all night, and be up at the least noise. This 


68 


ARIADNE. 


charitable admonition was the best anodyne for Olga. 
Before she could reach the middle of the dormitory 
she began to laugh, thinking of the ridiculous figures 
the young men were making down-stairs. Her two 
companions were soon at her bedside, to know the de- 
tails of her escape. Then she related her misfortune. 

‘‘ And there is nothing to eat ! ” sighed the girl 
with the sensitive stomach. ‘‘ You promised to bring 
us something ! ” 

‘‘ If you wish me to bring you some soothing drops, 
there are still some in Mile. Grabinof’s phial.” 

Ten minutes after every one was asleep in the dor- 
mitory except Ariadne, who was thinking of her sad 
future. These nocturnal scenes did not trouble her, 
for she had for a long time been a silent, impassible 
witness of them. 


CHAPTER X. 

The next morning the whole institute heard that 
“ somebody ” had been found in the dining-room that 
night. 

The basket of edibles had been left there, and the 
first to find it appropriated the contents, without ask- 
ing whence it came. The soldier on duty, sure of 


ARIADNE. 


69 


being sent away and also punished, was determined 
to have a little consolation in something to eat ; and, 
when the directress remembered the basket as a proof 
of guilt, and sent for it, no one in the institute had 
ever seen it. 

Who was the first to tell of the adventure ? How 
did the report spread so rapidly ? Hobody could say ; 
but, at seven o’clock in the morning, the “three 
graces ” knew that their secret had been discovered. 

“ Bah ! I always thought it would come to this,” 
said Olga, philosophically, in reply to the lamentations 
of her companions. 

“ But we shall be expelled ! ” 

“ hTobody ever confesses,” continued the young girl, 
as she deliberately combed out her long, heavy tresses, 
which fell below her knee. “ Only fools confess ! ” 

“ Then the whole class will be punished ! ” 

“ They would not send away a whole class ; that 
would cause too much scandal. Don’t trouble your- 
self ; Madame Superior is more troubled than we to 
know how this thing will terminate.” 

This young person was indeed deeply versed in the 
science of the human heart. She was perfectly right, 
for the superior would have given anything if no 
one but herself had known of this affair. She even 
went so far as to regret the impulse which led her 


70 


ARIADNE. 


to the dining-room, and, in her trepidation, sent for 
Madame Sekourof, whose counsels were always so ex- 
cellent in theory, and so impossible in practice. 

“You have some news?” she said, on entering. 

“ What ! ” said the directress, falling from the 
clouds, “ you know it ? ” 

“ I heard it this morning. But what is it — a whole 
class led astray by a regiment ? or is it only an abomi- 
nable joke ? ” 

Madame Batourof told all to her friend without 
concealment, for she had to deal plainly with her. 

“ And you do not know the names of the girls ? ” 
asked Madame Sekourof, when she had heard all. 

The superior reflected a moment. 

“ I ask myself, sometimes, if it were not better not 
to know them.” 

“But you must know them, at all hazards. The 
thing is too well known, thanks to the crowd of tell- 
tales and scandal-mongers who swarm around you. 
Public opinion must have satisfaction.” 

“ I can give it ! ” sighed Madame Batourof. 

Five minutes afterward, Groucha appeared at the 
the door. Her mistress guessed that she had some- 
thing to tell her, and went out an instant. When she 
returned, she was so excited that Madame Sekourof 
was frightened. 


ARIADNE. 


71 


“ What is the matter ? Another misfortune ? ” 

“ No, no, my dear ; but I am a little upset ! I 
have just learned their names ! ” 

“WeU?” 

‘‘Impossible to tell them, even to you. You can 
judge of my position.” 

“ Are you very certain ? ” 

“Very sure. The chambermaid of the dormitory 
has known it since the change of classes this morning, 
and she became so frightened that she confessed all to 
Groucha.” 

“ They are of noble families ? ” 

The superior bowed her head. 

“Advise me,” said she. 

“I cannot advise you ; for it is one of those cases 
when the greatest service you can render a friend is 
to say nothing, so that she will not have to repent hav- 
ing listened to you.” 

Madame Sekourof returned home ; and the supe- 
rior sent for the inspectress. 

She came, too, in great consternation, for she knew 
the names of the girls ; and certainly if the Evil Spirit 
had had any hand in it, he would have chosen those 
three girls, the “flower of the institute,” as they were 
called by the authorities during the imperial visits. 

“ I will not reproach you at present,” commenced 


72 


ARIADNE. 


the superior, in her most authoritative tone. “We 
will speak of the affair later. At present you must 
advise. Can we punish those young girls ? Do you 
believe it possible to make a bold stroke ? ” 

The inspectress replied by shaking her head. 

“However,” replied Madame Batourof, “the re- 
port is spread far and near ; it is impossible to stop it 
now — probably the young men have told their fellow- 
officers. My God ! my God ! what a predicament ! 
What could the teachers have been thinking of ? 
And you, yourself ? But I will not say more now. 
What is to be done ? ” 

The superior sat in a corner, as far away from the 
door as possible ; the inspectress drew near to her, and 
they commenced whispering. The conversation lasted 
about a half hour, after which Madame Batourof rose, 
made the sign of the cross, and said : 

“May the Lord assist me! My necessities are 
very great, and my heart bleeds to think of them ! 
. . . . But you said it would be impossible to make a 
bold stroke I Send me Mile. Grabinof.” 


ARIADNE. 


73 


CHAPTER XL 

Mlle. Grabinop soon appeared. She was so drawn 
and pinched up, that she scarcely looked larger than a 
rat. The storm she expected did not come, at least, 
all at once, for she received the blow in a look, before 
the thunder roared. 

“ One of your scholars is seriously compromised,” 
said the superior. 

Mile. Grabinof thought she had not heard well, and 
looked at the directress to understand her. 

‘‘ Do not feign ignorance, and make the situation 
worse by some absurdity. One of your scholars has 
compromised herself in a silly adventure, and it is 
said in the institute she is one of the noblest and 
richest.” 

“It is false, your Excellence,” interrupted Grabi- 
nof, faithful to her treaty of alliance. 

“I know it is false,” said the directress, “but do 
not interrupt me, I beg of you. I did wish that all 
these rumors could be hushed up ; unfortunately they 
are now too wide-spread, for calumny flies rapidly ; 
and if we do not give satisfaction to our most moral 
public, they will say the whole institute is plunged 
into the most frightful debauchery. You must give 
4 


u 


ARIADNE. 


me the name of the scholar who was guilty of the 
offense.” 

Grabinof bent her head, not intending to do what 
was demanded of her. 

“Excellence,” murmured she, “I assure you the 
names that have been mentioned are a pure inven- 
tion, an abominable slander. I can prove to you how 
far the accused young girls are above such odious 
lies.” 

“And Madame Banz, what does she say?” inter- 
rupted the superior, who had not a very high opinion 
of that teacher. 

“ She has made no statement at all. Excellence ; it 
was during her term of duty these disturbances oc- 
curred. Such a scandal could never have taken place 
during my term. But she sleeps so heavy — she is so 
large.” 

“You confess, then, a scandal?” continued Ma- 
dame Batourof, with a vivacity which proved how 
glad she was to be, as we say, “ on the scent.” 

“ Without doubt. Excellence, I cannot deny . . . .” 

“Well, find me the guilty one. There must be 
one culprit ; you know your scholars, and it is your 
place to find her. Come back in half an hour with 
the information desired.” 

The superior took leave of her governess, who de- 


ARTABNE. 


75 


parted as much stunned as if the institute had fallen 
on her. 

‘‘We must have a victim for public opinion’s sake,” 
thought Grahinof, “and she must not he rich, or of 
illustrious family ; she must have no relatives or 
friends who would be likely to make a fuss. Who 
among the scholars combines these requisites so rare- 
ly found in institutes ? I have it ! Ranine ! the hate- 
ful, malicious Ranine ! whom destiny seems to have 
prepared for dismissal by frequent reprimands ! ” 

Ranine ! she was then going to be rid of Ranine ! 

• Grabinof had much trouble to control herself dur- 
ing the half hour the directress allowed her to look for 
the lamb they were going to sacrifice. She looked at 
her watch twenty times ; and when the half hour 
sounded, she presented herself for the audience. 

“Well,” said the superior, “you have discovered 
her?” 

“Yes, Excellence, and it is no other than the pupil 
who has been so conspicuous of late for her insubordi- 
nation and laziness.” 

“ Her name ? ” 

“ Ranine.” 

The word was pronounced without shame or hesi- 
tation, with as much indifference as a butcher slaugh- 
ters a kid. The superior looked attentively at the 
governess. 


/ 


76 ARIADNE, 

‘‘ Are you very sure it was she ? Remember you 
are responsible before God and man.” 

“ It was she, your Excellence, and no other.” 

This reply astonished the superior, who turned 
away her head. 

How dearly they will pay for it ! ” thought she. 

She was mistaken. Grabinof was more wicked 
than interested. If she had been offered money for 
what she was doing without remorse, she probably 
would have refused it ; but to be rid of a despised 
scholar, and attach herself to others by ties of grati- 
tude and obligation, was easier, and more agreeable 
to a callous conscience. 

‘‘ Does Ranine confess her fault ? ” asked the su- 
perior. 

“ Confess ? Oh, Excellence, you do not know her ! 
She is pride incarnate ! she will never confess ! ” 

‘‘ Is she forewarned ? ” 

“ She knows nothing, Excellence. She does not be- 
lieve she has been discovered.” 

“ That is good ; you may go, but keep silent.” 

Grabinof left, with her heart full of joy. Her per- 
ilous mission was accomplished so easily, she was sur- 
prised ; but it was done. 

Madame Sekourof was sent for, but in her pres- 
ence the directress was troubled ; before that upright 


ARIADNE. 


77 


woman she dared not raise her eyes. However, 
twenty- seven years of despotic government had hard- 
ened her, and she succeeded in putting on a bold look. 

“We have found the culprit,” said she ; “ this will 
suffice, I think.” 

“ You are going to expel her ? ” 

“ Immediately.” 

“ Then you can tell me who it is ? ” 

The directress hesitated ; then, overcoming her 
weakness, she said in rather a calm voice : 

“ It is Mile. Ranine.” 

“ The one who sang the other day ? ” 

“ The same.” 

Madame Sekourof sat down, clasped her hands, and 
said, quietly : 

“ It is not possible.” 

“ Those who ought to know affirm it.” 

“ You have been deceived, I tell you. That young 
girl does not know enough to risk such an adventure. 
To do that, she must have been reading frivolous 
books, have an unhealthy curiosity, and a contempt 
for conventionalities. I tell you that child is incapa- 
ble of doing what she has been accused of. It is false.” 

The superior was silent for a moment. 

“ Some one must have done it,” said she, slowly, 
“ and it is upon her alone that suspicion rests.” 


78 


ARIADNE. 


‘‘All ! ” exclaimed Madame Sekourof, without say- 
ing more. 

She understood it. State reasons prevail in in- 
stitutes as well as in empires ; and frequently lives of 
the most humble families are sacrificed for causes 
not made public. 

“And you are going to cast her out into the 
street ? ” 

The superior shrugged her shoulders, as much as 
to say, “ This does not much change her destiny.” 

“And you tell me she is entirely without re~ 
sources ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the female autocrat, with regret. 

“ Will you do nothing for her ? ” 

“ The manner in which she leaves us will forbid 
my doing anything for her ostensibly, but I have 
a secret fund for charities ; from this, I will take 
enough to give her a little outfit.” 

“She will refuse it, be certain of that. You will 
humble her.” 

“ I shall regret it very much ; but . . . .” 

“ Allow me to invest the money for her, will you ? ” 

“ Ah ! noble heart ! ” cried Madame Batourof, who 
began to see light dawning. 

“ Is she informed of what awaits her ? ” 


“No.” 


ARIADNE. 


79 


“Well, send her to me ; I wish to see her before 
the blow strikes her. You have not a tender heart, 
my dear, but these young girls are sometimes deli- 
cately organized : to find herself unjustly cast out, for 
no fault of hers, might make many a girl crazy.” 

A gesture from the superior made the good woman 
laugh. 

“ Yes,” replied she, with bitterness ; “ it is her fault 
evidently, since you are resolved to send her away. 
Superior authority can never be mistaken. Can I see 
her ? ” 

“Of course.” 

The directress rang the bell and sent for Ai'iadne. 
While the servant had gone for her : 

“You delay the execution of my plans,” said she. 
“ You must allow a little time to elapse between your 
interview with her and mine ; but I will refuse you 
nothing.” 

The directress left the parlor. A few moments 
after Ariadne came in, with her placid brow and open 
countenance. 

“ Do you recognize me, mademoiselle ? ” said Ma- 
dame Sekourof, admiring the girl’s lovely, innocent 
face. 

“ I believe, madame, I have seen you here. It was 
you who made me sing.” 


80 


ARIADNE. 


“Precisely. Would you be very happy, if you 
could devote your whole time to singing under a 
good teacher ? ” 

“ Oh, madame ! ” said Ariadne, clasping her hands, 
and looking up into the eyes of the good lady, with- 
out being able to speak, so full was she of joy. 

“ I am not rich, and I cannot do much for you ; but 
if you will be content to live modestly, to deprive 
yourself of pleasures and toilets, I can have you 
taught the art of singing by good masters, who will 
prepare you for the stage if you have sufficient talent.’’ 

“ The stage ! ” repeated Ariadne — “ singing ! — ma- 
dame, are you not joking ? ” 

“ I am talking seriously. You may not be capable 
of attaining that end ; then you must be resigned to 
make your living by giving lessons.” 

“ Oh, madame ! I would do anything if I could 
only sing.” 

“ W ell, it is understood : you will live with me. 
There is a little room near mine, very small and simple, 
which my maid occupied. After thirty years’ service, 
she retired to a home for the aged. This will be your 
room ; my chambermaid shares the cook’s room. You 
Will go out only for your lessons, for I cannot take you 
into the world, where I do not go myself. You shall 
be my dear little friend.” 


ARIADNE. 


81 


Madame Sekourof became more and more affec- 
tionate as she saw wbat intense, beart-felt joy filled the 
eyes of Ariadne. When she finished speaking, she 
drew the young girl to her to kiss her, but Ariadne 
slipped through her arms and fell on her knees, laugh- 
ing and crying at the same time. 

‘‘ My mother,” said she, “ my second mother ! give 
me your blessing, that I may feel your protection over 
me.” 

She remained prostrated. The old lady, moved to 
tears, made the sign of the cross on her blond head, 
and lifted Ariadne in her arms. 

“When you leave the institute,” said she — “do 
you hear me ? — when you leave here, my house will be 
ready to receive you. You will not be one hour with- 
out shelter and friends.” 

“ Ah ! ” sighed Ariadne, “ your friendship is the 
first I have known since my aunt’s death.” 

“ What ! no friends here — no relatives elsewhere ? ” 

“None ! It is five years since I received a letter.” 

“ Poor child ! So much the better ; you will have 
nothing to regret in leaving the institute.” 

“It is such a long time yet until the month of 
June ! ” 

Madame Sekourof had not the courage to reply 
immediately. 


82 


ARIADNE. 


“ Never mind, my dear,” said she, “ my house is 
always ready for you. Think of it in your moments 
of trial ; and whatever sad or dreadful may happen to 
you, remember what I have promised.” 

Ariadne thought no more of the sadness of life, 
but ran to the piano and opened it hurriedly. 

“ Do you wish me to sing for you ? ” said she to 
her benefactress. 

It was all she had to offer her, and she gave it with 
a graceful willingness. 

“ No, no ; this is not the time. Return to your 
class ; I will see you again soon.” 

Like a daughter submissive to the orders of her 
mother, Ariadne closed the piano and kissed the hand 
which had dragged her from the most horrible misery. 
She appreciated the lady’s beneficence, although she 
did not know the extent of it, then joined her com- 
panions. Nothing remarkable happened in the halls 
or the study-rooms. The day finished without further 
adventure, and the classes ended in the usual order. 


CHAPTER XII. 

The next morning the scholars were told that there 
would be mass in the chapel. This happened often 
when there were no holidays, so no one paid much 


ARIADNE. 


83 


attention to it ; but when the teachers all came in 
with their best bonnets on, and there were strangers 
present, the girls began to whisper, 

‘‘ In honor of what saint are we excused from our 
morning lesson ? ” Olga asked her cousin. 

She, somewhat dissatisfied because breakfast was 
deferred, did not reply ; and mass was said as usual. 

After the last prayers, the priest came out of the 
chancel, and presented the cross to be kissed by the 
congregation. When the processional was finished, 
there seemed to be some uneasiness pervading the 
crowd shut up in the chapel. The scholars, little and 
tall, asked each other what this solemnity meant, 
as it was not a j^^e-day. A sudden fright filled 
their young hearts as the superior advanced to the 
middle of the chapel, facing the congregation, and 
turning her back to the tabernacle, the door of which 
was closed, though the curtain of red silk was drawn 
aside. 

‘‘ My children,” said the superior, whose lips were 
as white as her wax-like hands, “ my maternal heart 
has been wounded in every fibre ; one among you has 
been unworthy of the czar’s gifts ; she has broken the 
rules of this house, has neglected her duties . . . .” 

A horrible silence fell upon the frightened multi- 
tude ; they could hear the directress breathing heavily, 


84 


ARIADNE. 


before finishing her sentence ; she had need of all her 
strength, hut perhaps her pious, erring soul was invok- 
ing pardon from on high, before striking down an in- 
nocent being. She commenced again : 

“This sheep cannot join our flock again. She 
must leave in peace, and obscurity, to do penance for 
the fault which to-day excludes her from our midst ! 
Ai’iadne Ranine is no longer a member of the in- 
stitute.” 

A faint cry responded to this sentence ; and Olga, 
pale with anger and indignation, her lips compressed 
to keep back the words, rushed foi-ward, and caught in 
her arms her companion, who was just sinking to the 
ground. 

The chapel was soon deserted, the young ladies 
going out with their teachers in the deepest silence. 
Each one felt that a most iniquitous sentence had been 
pronounced. 

“ Leave that young person,” said Grabinof to Olga, 
who was kneeling down supporting Ariadne’s head on 
her arm. “ Leave her ; she is no longer one of the 
class.” 

Olga gave her such a look that the old maid was si- 
lenced, and, without deigning to reply, continued tak- 
ing the hair-pins out of her companion’s magnificent 
hair. As the superior came toward the group, a pas- 


ARIADNE. 


85 


sage-way was made for her to pass ; Olga’s glance met 
hers, and it was not the directress who showed the 
most anger. The black eyes of the young girl, full of 
indignation, defied the silent reproach of Madame 
Batourof, who bowed her head. 

“ I will take care of her until she leaves us,” said 
Olga, without raising her voice. 

“ That will not be long,” replied the superior ; “ in 
a half hour she will leave the establishment.” 

She passed out, but the remembrance of Olga’s 
look made her old face blush for shame a long time 
after every one had forgotten the scene. 

Ariadne soon opened her eyes, and the first person 
she saw was Madame Sekourof, who was standing at 
the foot of the bed in the infirmary where they had 
taken her. The feeling of the disgrace which had just 
been publicly inflicted upon her caused her head to 
swim ; but the old lady came to her bedside, and, as 
she leaned over her compassionately, said : 

“ My house is ready for you ; come, my child.” 

Ariadne felt a flood of tears cover her face, with- 
out knowing whence they came. 

“ My poor child ! ” repeated Madame S4kourof. 
“ Let us hurry, the sooner the better.” 

Ariadne tried to sit up, but her head turned, she 
stretched out her hand for a support, when she found 


86 


ARIADNE. 


a strong arm ready to sustain her ; surprised, she 
moved her head away. 

“ Olga ! ” said she ; “ here, near me ! but I am 
expelled ! ” Without replying, Olga continued to 
hold her ; and as she sat on the side of the bed, she 
saw, with surprise, that the haughty Olga was unlac- 
ing her shoes. 

Leave them,” she tried to say ; but Olga silently 
took them off, and upon that naked foot dropped a 
scalding tear. Ariadne looked at her companion. 

“ You are weeping ? you regret my leaving ? I 
thought no one loved me, you least of all ! ” 

Olga continued to undress Ariadne, for she could 
take nothing away with her belonging to the institute. 
They put on her a very simple, ready-made black dress ; 
the rest of her costume, very plain also, was brought 
by Madame Sekourof. 

When the toilet was complete, she took Ariadne 
by the hand, and said : 

“ Come now, there is one more trial for you, but the 
last; Madame Superior is waiting to bid you good-by.” 

“ What for ? ” asked Ariadne ; “ she sent me away, 
I perhaps deserved it, but did not think myself so 
guilty. I would rather not see her.” 

“ Wait a minute,” said Olga, who ran down the red 
stairs. 


ARIADNE. 


87 


She knocked at the superior’s door, and was ad- 
mitted. The room was full of people, professors and 
functionaries, who were consulting with Madame Ba- 
tourof, and assuring her of their loyalty. The arrival 
of Olga astonished her ; such audacity was unheard of, 
particularly since the affair with Ariadne. 

“ What do you want ? ” asked the directress. 

“ I have a favor to ask of you, ‘ mamma,’ ” said the 
young patrician, sweetly, and her intelligent eyes were 
fixed on ‘‘ mamma ” with an expression far from being 
in accord with her apparent submission. 

The superior saw threatenings of a storm in that 
look, and, fearing she might lose her self-control, took 
Olga into the next room, to the amazement of the 
company. 

“ She does as she likes,” explained the priest to his 
astonished flock ; ‘‘ she is from a noble family, and then 
her majesty stood godmother for her.” 

In the little parlor adjoining, Olga stood face to 
face with the directress, who, notwithstanding her age 
and dignity, seemed terribly embarrassed. 

“ Ranine desires very much not to see you ; would 
you not, your Excellence, spare her this great trial ? ” 

‘‘She must submit to the reprimand that she has 
deserved,” said the directress, looking out of the win- 
dow. 


88 


ARIADNE. 


“ She is in no condition to bear it. Can I not tell 
her that you allow her to leave at once ? ” 

The superior was indignant to hear such authority 
expressed in that youthful voice, yet addressed to her 
in the most respectful manner. She could not restrain 
herself. 

“You ask a great many things, mademoiselle,” 
said she in French ; “ it seems to me your last records 
do not permit you to hope much from my bounty.” 

“ I admit that I am giddy and thoughtless,” replied 
Olga, without looking down, “ but hereafter I will do 
better, and besides. . . .” 

“What besides?” said the superior, harshly. 
Olga straightened herself up proudly. 

“None of us are without sin,” said she, boldly. 
“ Will you, ‘ mamma,’ permit me to tell Ariadne she is 
free ? ” 

“ Go ! ” replied the superior, turning her back on 
her, to get rid of her importunity. 

Olga made a low curtesey, and ran to the hall, 
where everybody was discussing the late events. 

“ For a good work, ladies ! ” said she, running out 
of breath, and holding up her white apron. “ For a 
good work ! give, all of you, what you can.” 

“ But,” said Madame Banz, “ we must know what 
good work.” 


ARIADNE. 


89 


Grabinof was not far off. 

“ I ask nothing of you, dear,” said the merciless 
Olga ; “ good works do not follow you. Pardon me ! 
I mean to say, being perfection yourself, everything 
that you do is a good work. But you, ladies, who are 
not perfect, quick, every one a trifle, the most beauti- 
ful and the most precious.” 

Without answering the numerous questions asked 
by the obtuse Madame Banz, Olga ran slyly up to 
each of her companions, the other two graces included, 
and stripped them of all their small pieces of jewelry : 
they stared at her, and would have demurred at the 
treatment, but dared not utter a word. 

“Whither are you going?” cried Grabinof, seeing 
Olga take her flight with her apron full. 

“ To console the afllicted,” cried she. “ It is one 
of the seven charities,” and she disappeared. 

“ Here are the farewells of the institute,” said she 
to Ariadne, who was weeping silently while leaning on 
Madame Sekourof ’s shoulder, “ and the superior says 
that you need not come to say good-by to her.” 

The old lady stared at Olga, and divined the strug- 
gles her heart was suffering. 

“ Farewell ! ” said Ariadne. “ You will thank all 
the young ladies for me, and you, I thank you,” said 
she, taking Olga’s hand. “I accused you of being 


90 


ARIADNE. 


proud and wicked ; I was mistaken : you have proved 
yourself my friend in misfortune.” 

“ Adieu ! ” interrupted Olga, kissing her. “ Go 
away quickly ; this house has not been good to you.” 

Ariadne cast a glance around the bare cold walls 
of the infirmary. In truth this house had not been 
good to her. She went down the stairs, supported on 
one side by Madame Sekourof, on the other by Olga, 
for her steps were still very uncertain. 

The girls all ran to the stairs to see her, for an offi- 
cial expulsion was such a rare thing that it caused 
terror in the institute for several generations of schol- 
ars. Nothing was said when the young girl passed by ; 
only a faint murmur of contempt was heard in the 
first row of busybodies — the only sign of disapproba- 
tion they dared to show. 

When she reached the landing where her class 
stood, Ariadne seenied to be aroused from her stupor. 
Would they taunt her with their jeering now, at the 
last moment ? She raised her eyes from the floor ; they 
pitied her, for they all knew she did not go to the 
dining-room that night, and their eyes turned to Gra- 
binof. The teacher had dared to be one of the wit- 
nesses of the despised pupil’s departure ; and it was 
her infamous work ! 

‘‘Be happy, mademoiselle,” said Aiiadne to her; 


ARIADNE. 


91 


then turning toward her companions, she added, “ For- 
give me my offenses, voluntary and involuntary, that 
I may depart in peace.” 

“ May God pardon you ! ” the young girls solemnly 
munnured. 

Ariadne went down the last steps with a heavy 
heart, until she reached the vestibule ; there she found 
the door open before her. Olga let go her arm, kissed 
her three times, and Ariadne had no one with her but 
the old lady. 

‘‘Adieu!” said she to Olga, who took Ariadne’s 
lifeless hand, and pressed it fervently, seemingly to 
ask pardon for her crime. The guilty was humiliated 
before the innocent. Two steps more, and the door 
was closed upon Ariadne Ranine, expelled from the 
institute for disobedience. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A RECLUSE feels very strange when she first treads 
the pavement after a long confinement. It is not so 
much the bustle of the outside world that strikes her, 
but the sharp, rough stones under her feet, instead of 
the smooth flags and waxed floors she has been accus- 
tomed to. 


92 


ARIADNE. 


Ariadne walked with difficulty, her feet were so 
tender that she suffered every step she took ; this was 
emblematic of her existence, for thus was she to be 
jostled in the rough paths of life. 

The first days of her life with Madame Sekourof 
were for her an inexpressible happiness. She felt she 
was surrounded by real and not fictitious compassion ; 
and singing, that divine art, was heaven to her for 
long hours at a stretch— so much so that her protec- 
tress was obliged to forbid her singing beyond a cer- 
tain time. 

At heart, Ariadne was not unhappy, for she did 
not suspect the abominable plot which made her the 
expiatory victim, but believed she was expelled for 
having missed her class that day when she sang so 
long, and thought her punishment greater than the 
fault deserved. She attributed this severity to Gra- 
binof’s machinations ; but since she had lived such a 
peaceful life with her old friend, she was almost 
tempted to thank the wicked governess for sparing her 
eight months of misery. 

She told Madame Sekourof her thoughts, who felt 
that Ariadne should be informed why she was expelled, 
but had not the courage to wound again the innocent, 
confiding ghl. It will be time enough for her to learn 
the charges given to the public. 


ARIADNE. 


93 


Ariadne did not go to tlie conservatory ; the man- 
ner in which she was sent away from the institute 
shut her out from all public establishments. A sing- 
ing-teacher must be found who would devote himself 
to her musical education. There was no lack of pro- 
fessors in the world who would willingly undertake 
the task, but the peculiar situation of the girl made it 
difficult to select one. 

Madame Sekourof found a first-class artist, of such 
high moral character that any mother could confide 
her daughter to his care. This phoenix had several 
times embarked in the most ungrateful enterprise of 
preparing superb voices for the stage, without any 
recompense during the long term of study, but a 
stipulated payment at the termination of the training. 
This arrangement was most generous, for, among the 
many singers whom the conservatories bring annually 
before the public, there are few who become known ; 
but the professor’s experience had been so unfortu- 
nate that he swore he would never bring out another 
cantatrice. 

At the first words of Madame Sekourof, he burst 
out : 

“ A beautiful voice ! Zounds ! There are dozens 
of beautiful voices ! Do you imagine it is a rare 
thing? And what insignificant creatures these girls 


94 


ARIADNE. 


are with beautiful voices ! I have had enough of it ; 
don’t let us talk about it ! ” 

But, my dear sir, listen to me a moment ! ” in- 
sisted Madame Sekourof ; “ when you have heard her 
you will be convinced.” 

“ That is very possible ! I am such a fool ! That 
is precisely the reason why I do not want to hear her. 
Is she pretty ? ” 

“ Charming, rather handsome than pretty, and 
made for the stage.” 

‘‘ Better still ! your beauties with fine voices are 
unbearable ; only ugly women have any reason about 
them. What is her name ? ” 

“ Ariadne — a pretty name, is it not ? and one that 
will look well on a play-bill.” 

‘‘ A play-bill ! already ! how fast you are ! Is she 
tall?” 

“ Yery tall, and elegant ! ” 

“ What a misfortune for women to be handsome ! ” 
growled the old professor ; ‘‘ they are as vain as pea- 
cocks. How old is she ? ” 

‘‘ Seventeen years old.” 

“ Seventeen ! What sense is there in commenc- 
ing to sing at seventeen ? ” 

“ Too soon ? ” 

Too late ! What do you suppose I can do with 
a voice with bad habits ? ” 


ARIADNE. 


95 


“ But she has never sung anything except church 
music.” 

“ A prude, then ; and you talk to me about pre- 
paring her for the theatre ! ” 

Madame Sekourof laughed. 

“ It is evident,” said she, “ you do not want her ; 
but do not say so much evil of her until you know 
her.” 

“ A mezzo-soprano, did you say ? ” asked the pro- 
fessor. 

‘‘ A contralto.” 

“ Russia is full of contraltos. There is nothing else.” 

“ What day shall I bring her to you ? ” asked the 
old lady — for she saw how anxious the professor was 
to hear her. 

“Well, to-morrow, at eleven o’clock; and do try 
to be punctual, for these pretty girls never finish dress- 
ing.” 

Radiant with joy, Madame Sekourof carried the 
glad tidings to her prot'eg^e, 

“You are going to sing before Morini ! ” said she. 
“ He is the finest singing-teacher in the world. If you 
please him, he will doubtless take charge of you ; but 
he is whimsical. Be as unaffected as possible, for he 
likes simplicity ; and do not be afraid, for then you 
cannot sing well.” 


96 


ARIADNE. 


Ariadne listened to this advice ; and, at the ap- 
pointed hour, went to the professor’s house. 

It was the first time she had met a stranger since 
she had left the institute. The most renowned pro- 
fessor in Europe was to her something supernatural. 
Much to her surprise, she found a little old man re- 
sembling a monkey, but a monkey with great black 
eyes, limpid, sparkling, and full of expression. This 
illustrious professor wore a summer paletot of brown 
cloth, frayed out at the edges, with several buttons 
off ; his slippers were embroidered with little negroes’ 
heads worked on the toes — a present doubtless from a 
pupil possessed of good intention, but bad aesthetic 
taste. 

“ Sing ! ” said the master, peremptorily, as he en- 
sconced himself in the arm-chair, crossed his legs, and 
took his skinny left knee in his right hand. 

At the first notes, he straightened himself up, let 
go his knee, seized the arms of the chair, and fixed his 
eyes on Ariadne. But she did not see him. “She 
had flown,” as Madame Sekourof said, smiling. Her 
mind was far off, above the little music-room, so far 
and so high that she had no longer any fear. 

“ Sing something else,” said the professor, when 
she had finished her exercises. 

Ariadne sang the offertory hymn. Her voice filled 


ARIADNE. 


97 


the small room, and the piano even vibrated in echo. 
Madame Sekouroff was listening, spellbound by the 
wonderful voice. Suddenly the professor jumped up 
from his arm-chair, which rolled back as far as the 
wall, caught Aidadne’s head between his hands, and 
kissed her on the forehead, in perfect rapture. 

‘‘ What an artist ! My God ! what an artist ! But 
she does not know how to sing. Everything is to be 
done. But so much the better ; at least you have 
nothing to forget. You will take your lesson three 
times a week,” said he to the astonished Ariadne, “ and 
you will be a great cantatrice, mark my word ! ” 

He pushed Ariadne aside, for she did not move 
quickly enough, and, in perfect taste, sang with his 
fine barytone voice, too feeble for the stage, but rich 
and powerful in a chamber, an aria from Handel’s ora- 
torio, “ Alexander’s Feast.” 

“ Well, what do you think of it ? ” said the master, 
leaving the piano. 

Ariadne was still listening, and could scarcely come 
back to reality. 

“ Shall I sing that ? ” asked she. 

The master laughed and replied : “No, not that ; 
it is a gentleman’s solo. But there are many others, 
only not now. For two years you must sing ‘ oh ! ah ! 
oh ! ’ in every modulation.” 

5 


98 


ARIADNE. 


“ You will not want me, tlien ? ” murmured the 
young girl, who did not quite understand him. 

“ Heavens ! is she silly ? If I did not want you, 
do you think I would trouble myself to surprise you ? 
Little witch ! Ah, she has talent ! Of course she 
will prove ungrateful : that’s the way of the world.” 

Madame Sekourof led the still dazzled and almost 
stupefied Ariadne away. The lessons were to com- 
mence the next day. 

The young girl studied diligently, but did not al- 
low her work to transport her to such an extent as to 
be followed by discouragement, which often produces 
an exhaustion of time and strength. She progressed 
slowly but surely. The elation resulting from her first 
efforts did not prevent her forming a serious resolution. 
She understood thoroughly that she was contracting a 
debt which she alone could pay ; and most conscien- 
tiously she pursued her course of study, although the 
severe technique which was required of her did not 
give much opportunity for enthusiastic reveries. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Six months passed. The carnival had come, and 
tills in Russia was a season of much gayety. People 


ARIADNE. 


99 


amused themselves at this time, so as to he quits with 
the six weeks of ennui which followed. 

Madame Sekourof could not offer Ariadne many 
pleasures, for her small fortune and conventual tastes 
forbade it. However, she would have taken the young 
girl to the opera had not the singing-master opposed it. 

“ Hot yet,” said he. “ What is the matter with you ? 
Why, the deuce ! are you in such a hurry ? She will 
have time enough to spoil her taste ! We have the 
good fortune to know that our pupil has never seen 
anything bad, or even mediocre, and you want to per- 
vert her. Do you wish her to coo like Italian so- 
pranos ? ” 

Madame Sekourof took this tirade of the master’s 
for what it was worth — that is, excellent advice — and 
Ariadne did not go to the opera. Instead of it, the 
good woman tried to find Ariadne a less perilous and 
more popular amusement. The last Saturday of the 
carnival, she took her to see the “ Balaganes.” The 
“ Balaganes ” are theatres and places of nondescript 
amusements, which are put up temporarily at this time, 
extending all along the opening in front of the Ad- 
miralty, between the Winter Palace and the Senate, 
before the square recently built cut off half the space. 
Since the new improvementSj the “ Balaganes ” have 
been transferred to the Champ de Mars, and the pict- 


100 


ARIADNE. 


uresque coup d*ceil whicli the long line of booths, or- 
namented with candles, carvings, and toys, used to 
present, has somewhat lost its charm. 

In the good old times of which we were speaking, 
pantomime-theatres, circuses, swings, menageries, and 
wooden horses formed an immense collection of popu- 
lar attractions ; monstrosities and somnambulists also 
played their part. The exhibitions were not so original 
in themselves, but the novelty lay in their being at- 
tended at this season by the cultivated classes. 

It was quite the correct thing for young men to 
go into one or more of these temporary structures. 
Ladies did not go, except to please their husbands 
and children ; but equipages of the aristocracy of St. 
Petersburg, in double file and close together, were to 
be seen the whole afternoon rolling past the entire 
range of buildings, which extended half a kilometre 
in length. 

Sometimes ean’iages would run into each other, and 
get so blocked that the procession would be stopped 
for an hour or two. These little accidents would al- 
low lovers to exchange signs and coquettes to make 
eyes ; and it was not wise, therefore, for a cautious 
mother or grave directress to take her daughters 
or pupils to such places. However, it had been the 
custom, as old as the foundation of institutes, to send 


ARIADNE, 


101 


girls to see the show in gala carriages drawn by four 
horses, each carriage with two footmen and coachman 
in red livery. 

The magnificent equipages which took the young 
ladies from the institute were furnished from the com-t 
stables. Seven or eight girls were packed in each of 
the immense carriages with a governess, and they went 
off at a fast trot to the space before the Admiralty. 
There the carriages took their stand in line, and for 
two or three hours the young recluses enjoyed the gay- 
est imaginable scene. It was very picturesque to see 
the variety of turnouts, for the most outlandish vehicle 
had a right to a place in the rank. The little low 
sleigh, drawn by an obstinate cob, and filled with a 
peasant’s family, could claim a right of way, and no 
one dared contest it. In the crowd intermingled offi- 
cers of the guard, galloping and prancing on their 
magnificent steeds ; family carriages, filled with little 
broods of blond and brunette babies ; smiling young 
girls, with frowning mammas, who, at the risk of tak- 
ing cold, thought it their duty to show their progeny 
to the passers-by ; rich merchants’ wives, dressed in 
heavy bright silks, with head-dresses of silk attached 
with a pin under the chin, showing the rounded oval 
of their faces, as they sat up, as straight as wax can- 
dles, in their superb carriages drawn by magnificent 


102 


ARIADNE. 


horses. In short, nothing could exceed the contrasts 
in costumes and modes of locomotion in this motley 
assemblage. 

All this Ariadne contemplated with curiosity. The 
fair with its vanities was as amusing to her, and as 
unreal, as objects in a kaleidoscope. Suddenly an ap- 
parition proved to her the reality of the scene before 
her eyes. 

The long line of carriages, coming and going, had 
to stop a moment to allow the vehicles from the insti- 
tute to join in. When they fell in line, the young re- 
cluses leaned out of the windows as far as possible, to 
enjoy all the pleasure they could when they had a 
chance. In spite of governesses, their pretty heads 
were stuck out of the windows, looking eagerly for 
some familiar face in the crowd. The first three car- 
riages contained the very young children, who clapped 
their hands with delight when they saw the play-hills 
j)asted on the theatres. In the fourth carriage were 
the young ladies of the graduating class, and among 
them the pretty Olga. She was at the left side, look- 
ing out with a certain contempt upon the pleasures of 
the populace ; her haughty glance scanned the carri- 
ages coming toward her, and sometimes she returned 
a how from one of her mother’s friends. Suddenly 
she saw Ariadne quietly seated by her benefactress 


ARIADNE. 


103 


in a little hired carriage. When she discovered her, 
she leaned out of the carriage, blushing with shame 
and joy, and quickly called out : 

“ Ranine ! ” 

Astonished to hear her name in public, Ariadne 
turned and perceived her former friend. Olga, seeing 
she was recognized, kissed her hand to Ariadne, much 
to the dismay of Grabinof, who was uselessly pulling 
her skirts to control the pretty little witch. As long 
as Ariadne was within sight, she was making signs and 
throwing kisses to her. 

The moment she sat down she caught the eye of 
young Batourof, the superior’s nephew, who was rid- 
ing a beautiful English horse, which he seemed to love 
to tease. The young man had been trying to attract 
Olga’s attention, for he had not forgotten that little 
unfinished romance, which he had hoped would be 
consummated by marriage. lie watched the young 
girl, and looked as tenderly after her as possible for a 
cavalry officer ; but, oh, horror ! she assumed a look 
of unmistakable contempt, very different from the 
smile she had for Ariadne. ^Yhen she saw Batourof, 
she stared like a near-sighted person trying to recog- 
nize a strange face, and turned away from him. 

The young man was so stupefied by this recej^tion 
that he left the high-road, dismounted, and went home 


104 


ARIADNE. 


to meditate upon his ill-success, while Olga and her 
companions continued their drive. The patrician girl 
did not understand until that moment the extent of 
her imprudence. She never thought of the little noc- 
turnal rendezvous as anything but innocent fun ; hut 
when she saw that man take the liberty of speaking 
in dumb-show, she understood how she had risked her 
honor ; and her regard for Ariadne, who bore the stig- 
ma of her sin, was intensified. 

On a lovely morning in June, three months later, 
Ariadne, accompanied by Madame Sekourof, who had 
taken the place of a mother, was passing by the gate 
of the institute on her way to her singing-lesson ; she 
saw a number of professors’ carriages waiting in the 
street. 

“ What is going on in the institute ? ” said she to 
her adopted mother. 

“It is the commencement,” replied Madame Se- 
kourof, regretting that she had not informed Ariadne 
of the fact, and spared her sorrow. Since the girl had 
been thrown upon her hands, her relations with the 
superior had been veiy cool and formal. There was 
no sympathy between them from the day the innocent 
was punished for the guilty. Madame Sekourof blamed 
the superior, and she, knowing she was censured, had 
no more love for her old friend. 


ARIADNE. 


105 


A carriage whicli had been waiting at the door just 
drove off, and in it Ariadne discovered Olga and her 
mother, a lady about thiity-six years of age. 

It was Olga, although scarcely recognizable, for 
the elegant toilet of a fashionable girl had taken the 
place of the institute’s uniform. In a pale pink silk, with 
a straw hat trimmed with roses, and draped in flounces 
of embroidered muslin, Olga was not like herself, al- 
though she was more beautiful than ever. 

“ How pretty she is ! ” cried Ariadne. 

Madame Sekourof looked from one to the other of 
the young girls ; Ariadne, in her robe de laine grise 
and her little black straw hat, was prettier than the 
Princess Olga, for so we must style her in future. 

Before the carriage had passed the two foot-pas- 
sengers, Olga saw Ariadne. Her small hands, with 
light pearl gloves, threw a sweet kiss to her unfortu- 
nate friend. 

“ What a good heart she has ! ” sighed Ariadne. 
“ It is lovely in her to remember me after what has 
passed ! ” 

Madame Sekourof stifled her desire to inform the 
young girl of her real situation. But why should she 
sow the seeds of rancor and hatred in the young 
heart ? 

The carnage drove rapidly away ; several others 


106 


ARIADNE. 


following passed the two modest pedestrians, but no 
one else thought of bowing to Ariadne. 

“ I should have graduated to-day also,” said she, 
going up the professors’ stairs. 

It was her first word since the meeting with Olga. 

“ Do you regret it ? ” asked Madame Sekourof, as 
her proteg'ee was going to ring the bell. 

“ No, certainly not ! What I have is worth more 
than anything I could have attained,” replied the young 
girl ; and I have gained eight months of study . . . 
and kindness,” added she, looking back at her second 
mother before passing through the open door. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Eighteen months -elapsed, during which Ariadne 
passed through the most difficult training in the art of 
singing. Her old master, who had become enamored 
of her beautiful voice, spared neither time nor pains 
to perfect it. His advice, harsh sometimes, preserved 
her from self-conceit — the natural stumbling-block of 
rising talent. 

He had never allowed her to sing anything but ex- 
ercises, and the young girl had never asked for other 
music. One morning she came alone, for Madame 


ARIADNE. 


107 


Sekourof’s healtk had become precarious, and required 
careful watching. He said to her, brusquely : 

“ Can you sing that ? ” and he handed her the air 
of Alice, in the first act of “Robert le Diable.” 

Ariadne took the piece, read it at sight, looked 
over the words, and commenced, hesitatingly. As her 
voice grew stronger, she forgot the outside world, and, 
with the deepest sentiment, and the most extraordi- 
nary expression, sang : 

“ Fuis les conseils audacieux 
Du s6ducteur qui m’a perdue.” 

“ Where on earth did you learn to sing like that ? ” 
cried the old Italian, standing right before her. 

“ Where ? Here, with you,” replied Ariadne, per- 
fectly stunned. 

“ It is not true ! I did not teach you to sing opera. 
You found that out all alone ; but you have learned 
it before ! ” 

“ I declare I have not ! ” replied the young girl, 
quickly, a little wounded at his suspicion. 

Without replying, Morini tore from a book another 
piece and handed it to his pupil, and, going to the 
piano, commenced to play the arioso from the “ Pro- 
phete,” which has caused so many tears to flow. He 
hoped to discover in the countenance of his scholar 


108 


ARIADNE. 


some movement that would prove she had been accus- 
tomed to singing it, for every contralto has been tested 
in this simple but perilous air. Ariadne’s face retained 
its astonished expression, and she missed the first note. 

“ But go on 1 ” cried the professor ; the part is for 
you.” 

“ Must I sing ? ” asked Ariadne, innocently. 

The master shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Try to count the measures this time. Sing ! ” 

She obeyed ; and scarcely had the sentiment of 
this supreme invocation taken possession of her when 
her countenance was transfigured, her eyes darted like 
flames, her hands, which held the paper, fell as she ut- 
tered those passionate phrases, and her w^hole frame 
seemed to vibrate with emotion. She was completely 
overcome. 

“ Begin the words again ! ” said the old master, al- 
most as much overcome as herself. Act it ! ” 

She began again. The first words, “ O mon fils 
seemed to come from a tormented soul. The second 
wail, full of hope and tenderness, fell from her lips 
like a prayer. She was carried away by the part — ^her 
eyes dilated. She laid the music on the piano that she 
might follow the words, and, extending her beautiful 
arms heavenward, sang, “ Sois hmi / ” while genuine 
tears rolled down her cheeks. 


ARIADNE. 


109 


Morini left the piano, and ran toward her as if to 
kiss her ; hut his respect for her made him take the 
cold hand of the cantatrice, who was pale and trem- 
bling, and lift it to his lips, as if she had been a queen. 

“ You are a great artist ! ” said he ; “you have the 
world in your hands. hText month you will give a 
concert. I can teach you nothing more. Let Nature 
guide you. That will be better than any lessons.” 

“ It is real, is it not ? ” replied Ariadne. 

“ What is real ? ” 

“ The mother who blesses her son — that son who 
loves his mother above all else ? It is real ? It is so 
beautiful ! ” 

“Good Heavens ! Yes ; it is real ! ” rejoined Mo- 
rini, delighted. “ Everything is real. Here, take the 
score ; read, study, find out the roles, read the parts ; 
believe that all is real, sublime innocence ! and you will 
make the whole world weep, because it loill he real!^"^ 

The professor, controlling his enthusiasm, added : 

“ Read everything, but not all at once. Find a 
role, and study it. Do not trifie with your gifts, for 
life is long.” 

Six weeks after, the placards announced the first 
concert of Ariadne, under the assumed name of “ Ari- 
adne Mellini,” which the professor and Madame Se- 
kourof both advised. 


110 


ARIADNE. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

The concert took place in the hall of the “ Court 
Singers,” a little hall that takes precedence of all oth- 
ers in St. Petersburg for good music. From the first 
moment she sang, the public knew that she was no or- 
dinary woman, there was so much natural dignity in 
her. Ariadne was bom an artist, and could do noth- 
ing mediocre. 

The professor selected his audience ; he sold all 
the tickets, for Ariadne had no acquaintances, and he 
distributed them in that music-loving circle which 
will never miss an artist’s dehut, or a musical meeting. 
There is in St. Petersburg a nucleus of three or four 
hundred persons, who set aside a portion of their in- 
come for the encouragement of young artists, and the 
pleasure of hearing good music. This society of con- 
noisseurs makes St. Petersburg one of the most mu- 
sical capitals in the world. Ariadne had a great 
success, and was several times recalled by the adoring 
dilettanti. Her faultless beauty added a great charm 
to her wonderful voice. 

Where did this young, timid girl, reared in seclu- 
sion, learn to carry herself so gracefully, to bow 
without any embarrassment, to sing with such ease ? 


ARIADNE. 


Ill 


She was born a cantatrice,” her master, when asked, 
would reply. 

After the concert, while Ariadne was receiving 
the congratulations of her friends, she felt a little 
gloved hand tap her familiarly on the shoulder. She 
turned around, and saw Olga standing before her. 

“ I told mamma that you were an old friend of mine ; 
she is delighted with you ; here is our address, come 
to-morrow and see us.” 

While uttering these words, Olga slipped into Ai’i- 
adne’s hand a little piece of paper, torn from the pro- 
gramme ; on it was scribbled a note. The Princess 
Orline, Olga’s mamma, with her sweetest smile, added 
a few words of congratulation, and the mother and 
daughter went away ; their white-silk skirts rustling 
softly over the inlaid floor. 

Ariadne returned to her benefactress’s home, with 
her heart full of emotion ; Madame Sekourof, who felt 
she was dying by inches, was as much delighted as 
Ariadne, to hear of her great success. 

When I am no more,” thought she, Ariadne will 
have, to console her in her desolation, the life of an 
artist, which is so exacting, so absorbing, that she will 
forget the sorrow of my loss.” 

She also advised the orphan to go and see the 
Princess Orline the next day. 


112 


ARIADNE. 


‘‘ It may be useful to you,” said she, “ for talent 
is often appreciated for its surroundings, as well as 
for itself.” 

Ariadne went to see her old friend. She was 
struck with the luxury which surrounded her. The 
grand staircase was ornamented with rare flowers, in 
rarer vases ; two Japanese dragons in bronze guarded 
the vestibule, and two English lackeys, as immovable 
as and stiffer than the dragons, sat on the benches. 

Ariadne’s simple black-silk dress was not in keep- 
ing with all this splendor, and the young girl waited 
some time before these pompous footmen decided to 
take her name. But no sooner had a mysterious little 
bell on the first floor ceased to ring than Ariadne saw 
her old friend running down the stairs, as beauti- 
ful, coquettish, and graceful as ever. She threw her 
arms around her, and led her up-stairs into a large par- 
lor, furnished in yellow satin. There, with her back 
turned, stood the Princess Orline, arranging flowers in 
a jardiniere. 

“ Mamma ! ” cried Olga, “ here she is ! ” 

The princess shook hands with Ariadne, uttered 
some kind words of welcome, and, glancing at her 
daughter, went into the next parlor. Olga took Ari- 
adne to her own room. 

“ Come, now,” said she, as they sat down together 


ARIADNE. 


113 


on a pretty little pink-and-white sofa, opposite an 
immense mirror, which reflected them from head to 
foot. “ Come, tell me all about youi’self ; what have 
you been doing? what are you going to do? and 
what are you doing ? ” 

“ I have been studying,” replied Ariadne. I 
work, and I am going to work.” 

‘‘Just the opposite of me ! ” cried Olga, joyously. 
“ I never do anything of any consequence, and I never 
expect that I shall.” 

Ariadne smiled ; such a life would do for an heir- 
ess with an income of half a million, but it would not 
suit a poor singer. 

“ What a success you had yesterday ! It was 
lovely ! I would like to have been in your place ! 
How they applauded you ! It made me so happy 
when I heard you applauded ! Were you not de- 
lighted?” 

“Yes, it made me very happy yesterday, but I 
don’t know that it will always ; I hope so.” 

“Hobody will ever applaud me ! ” sighed Olga, 
sadly. “ However, I would like to try. I must play 
a society comedy, but there would be friends to listen, 
and they would applaud out of politeness, whereas 
you — Will you give another concert soon ? ” 

“Next month,” replied Ariadne. “For two years 


114 


ARIADNE. 


I am going to retire, for my teacher wishes me to 
study five roles before making my dehut in the thea- 
tre. It has been a month since I opened a book.” 

“ You will play in the theatre ! How lovely ! 
You have a peculiar, a wonderful voice ! ” 

Ariadne smiled. Yes, she knew her voice was 
wonderful. 

“And, until then, what are you going to do?” 

“Work ! four hours’ singing every day, two hours’ 
piano, and the rest of the time will pass quickly enough 
in household duties, and reading with Madame Sekou- 
rof.” 

“You do house-work ! But such a creature as you 
should soar above this world, and only come down to 
charm us mortals ! You are not mortal, you are a 
goddess ! ” 

“ I must work, however,” said Ariadne, sweetly. 

Olga reflected ; her lovely face had an expression 
of gentleness and regret, which enhanced her beauty. 

“ Tell me,” said she, with hesitancy, “ did you 
ever suffer any vexation from that sad affair — leaving 
the institute ? ” 

“ Vexation ? Why ? No one cared enough about 
me to censure me for having been sent away before 
my studies were finished — who, then, could have vexed 
me ? ” 


ARIADNE. 


115 


Olga looked at ker companion ; she talked so in- 
nocently. 

“ Then no one has ever spoken to you about it ? ” 

“ I never see any one except my teacher and Ma- 
dame Sekourof. And nobody cares to remember a 
scholar sent away for insubordination.” 

Olga was silent. 

“ You can count upon me,” said she, in a moment. 
“ I love you more than you think ; and if you ever get 
into trouble tell me, or write to me, and it will not be 
in vain.” 

Ai'iadne wanted to go, but her friend had a thou- 
sand little trifles to show her, and loaded Ai-iadne with 
presents before she left. 

When she returned to her protectress, Ariadne 
could not help expressing her astonishment at Olga’s 
affection. 

‘‘ Who would believe,” said she, “ that this rich 
princess, who was so cold toward me at the institute, 
should become my best friend in misfortune ? ” 

“ Keep up the friendship,” said Madame Sekou- 
rof to her. When I am gone, she will be all that 
is left to you, and I feel that I shall not last very 
long.” 

This good woman was growing weaker every day. 
She had not been able to chaperon Ariadne since her 


116 


ARIADNE. 


first concert. The second was announced, and she 
felt she could not go to it. 

After having superintended Ariadne’s toilet, and 
placed a wreath of white jasmines on her head, she 
kissed her tenderly, and threw herself on the bed, as 
her adopted daughter departed with Morini. 

The oppression from which she suffered so much 
was disappearing by degrees, for she felt she was 
growing more feeble, though her head became worse. 
Others would have thought she was getting better, 
but she had seen death so often that she was not mis- 
taken, and knew her condition. 

“ If I could only live a little longer, to guide that 
poor child,” said she. 

A great languor overcame her ; she tried to strug- 
gle against sleep, but had not the strength to resist 
for any long time ; and her eyes closed under the 
lamp that was turned low and shaded by a thick 
globe. 


CHAPTER XYII. 

Ariadne’s concert was well attended ; a young 
violinist of great talent had just brought down the 
house by a new polonaise of extraordinary brilliancy. 
Scarcely had the applause he called forth ceased, when 


ARIADNE. 


117 


it reconunenced witli renewed fury for Ariadne, who was 
to sing a duet with a tenor, then a great favorite. He 
had never sung except in opera. The exception he 
made in favor of Morini’s young scholar enhanced the 
interest, so that every one was in a state of great ex- 
citement. 

Ariadne, pale as she always was when she sang, 
waited until the long flourish on the piano was fin- 
ished before she went in ; her partner, not the least 
embarrassed, scrutinized the faces before him, and, as 
he discerned his friends, would smile, or make some sign 
of recognition. Suddenly a voice from the first row 
of seats uttered a short sentence which made the 
young girl tremble : 

“ Her real name is Ranine ; she was expelled from 
the institute for an intrigue with a young man.” 

“ Impossible ! ” said a second voice. 

“ It is true. She is very beautiful ; but that does 
not falsify what I say.” 

A murmur of disappointment spread through the 
hall. Ariadne failed to come out. 

“Well,” said the tenor to her. “What is the 
matter with you ? What are you dreaming about ? ” 

A tumultuous applause was heard. The canta- 
trice was ill. Every one rose ; some persons stood on 
the chairs. But the alarm did not last long. 


118 


ARIADNE. 


Ariadne suffered for a moment with vertigo, but 
she did not even lose consciousness, and soon recov- 
ered her self-possession. 

‘‘ I do not belong to myself,” said she ; “ I belong 
to the public, who have paid to hear me. I will think 
later.” 

She made a sign to the pianist to repeat the last 
eight bars ; and she sang with such sweetness, such 
feeling, that her audience were carried away. The 
last chords of the duet were still vibrating in the air 
when the whole hall was clapping and crying “Bra- 
vo ! bravo ! ” 

“Ah, mademoiselle,” said the tenor, leading her 
out before the public for the fifth time, “ if I were a 
woman, I should be jealous of your success.” 

She had two more pieces to sing ; the audience 
wanted her to repeat the first ; but, instead of re- 
sponding to the encores which came from all parts of 
the house, she sang a little Russian air, with the most 
exquisite taste ; this made her triumph complete. 

The finale of the second piece was very long, and 
she seized the opportunity of casting her eyes around 
to find out the person who had condemned her in those 
few words. 

It was one of those men called “ high livers,” prob- 
ably because they lead the wildest life imaginable. 


ARIADNE. 


119 


His wicked eye, coarse neck, hair cut short, full face, 
ornamented with a thin mustache, gave him a good- 
natured look, but those who knew him well called him 
a “ rake.” The decoration in his button-hole showed 
his rank ; it was General Fremof. 

He examined the young girl as if she had been a 
horse, and, much to his surprise, she gave him a look 
full of contempt and indignation, which he tried to 
return by a malicious wink ; but his trouble was all 
lost, for, when Ariadne sang, the world for her no 
longer existed. 

Upon the plea of indisposition, she hastened away 
from the crowd that awaited to compliment her, thanked 
Morini, who escorted her to the carriage, and, when 
she arrived, went to Madame Sekourof’s room with 
less precaution than usual. 

The old lady opened her eyes at the noise of the 
silk dress, and tried to move, but could not. 

‘‘ Come near me, my child,” said she to Ariadne, 
who was frightened to see the rapid change in that 
face, a few hours before so calm, now sunken by 
the approach of death. “ Come closer. Are you 
happy ? ” 

‘‘Very happy,” said Ariadne, thinking of the con- 
cert. 

I am sorry to grieve you, but my hours are num- 


120 


ARIADNE. 


bered,” continued Madame Sekourof, in a strangely 
muffled voice. ‘‘You will find my will and my last 
present to you in a box on the table. Be a good 
woman, as you have been a good girl . . . .” 

“ My second mother ! ” cried Ariadne, in despair — 
“ my benefactress ! my only help ! There was a man 
who said I had an intrigue at the institute, and that I 
was expelled for it. He lied ! You know he did ; 
do you not ? ” 

Madame Sekourof ’s eyes became dim ; tears ran 
slowly down her blanched cheeks. 

“ I know it is not true .... but the world believes 
it — that you were sent away from the institute because 
of an intrigue.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Ariadne, “ I understand now why we 
live in seclusion. I am disgraced ! ” 

“ You are not disgraced, because you did nothing 
wi'ong. I know all, and for that reason — ” 

“For that reason you have protected me,” inter- 
rupted Ariadne, falling on her knees near h6r bene- 
factress. “ God will take you to heaven, because you 
are a saint.” 

She wept bitterly for one she knew she was to lose. 

“ God will watch over you,” said the dying woman, 
as she placed her hand on the blond head, still crowned 
with flowers. “You, too, have suffered in this world. 


ARIADNE. 


121 


Life will be hard for you, Ariadne ; be patient and 
kind.” 

Ariadne called for help. But what can we do 
when death comes ? Before dawn the protectress was 
no more. In Madame Sekourof’s will, she left her pro- 
teg^e a small sum, which would insure her annually 
two hundred rubles. In a letter to her was written : 

“It is very little, scarcely bread, but it is all I 
have, and it may be enough to keep you from tempta- 
tion. With it, and the work you may do, you will 
finish your studies, and then go on the stage. My 
blessing will rest upon you always, because you have 
a noble soul, and one that cannot err.” 

Three days after Madame Sekourof’s death, Ari- 
adne found herself in an apartment which was only 
rented for two weeks more, and of which the furniture 
was claimed by relatives, who were dissatisfied because 
a stranger had inherited some little money. Fortu- 
nately, she had saved enough from the concert to pay 
for her white dress and for mourning. When all was 
settled, one morning, while taking her tea, she ex- 
amined her purse, and found she had just one hundred 
and thirty-three rubles, besides a monthly allowance 
of sixteen and a half rubles. 


122 


ARIADNE. 


CHAPTER XYHI. 

The examination of her means was not calculated 
to inspire Ariadne with a blind confidence in the fu- 
ture. She went to her teacher to beg him to allow 
her to make her dehut a little sooner. Morini inflexi- 
bly opposed the project. 

“ In the last ten years,” said he, “ I have had ten 
pupils who had talent, who studied well, and all of 
them wanted to make their d'ehut before they were 
prepared. Where are they now ? Who knows their 
names ? They sang, some one winter, some two, but 
they made, in a word, a complete fiasco. Why ? Be- 
cause they were not prepared. They believed that 
one could come before the public like this ” (and the 
old teacher walked across the room, swinging his arms, 
until he stopped before Ariadne, with his mouth wide 
open). “ They opened their mouths, and what came 
out of them ? An abominable croak, because they 
were afraid, and did not know how to play, or they 
were not sure of their parts ! And you want to do 
as they did ? ” 

“ But, my dear teacher, I will do double work,” en- 
treated Ariadne, with her hands clasped and eyes full 
of tears. 


ARIADNE. 


123 


“You will work eight hours a day, and crack your 
voice. That is a splendid idea ! Remember, my child, 
for your own good, that work done slowly, in modera- 
tion, is everything ; that haste accomplishes nothing, 
and leads to ruin. It is greatly to my interest that 
you become a true artist, a great cantatrice. You do 
not seem to bear that in mind.” 

Ariadne bowed ; he was right, and she felt that 
she ought to do everything to advance her talent — it 
was a sacred debt. She submitted, went home, think- 
ing how she could live on sixteen rubles and a half a 
month — a little more than fifty francs. She must have 
shoes, hats, and gloves ; however simple and economi- 
cal she was, such things were necessary. 

“ Lessons ! ” cried Ariadne, suddenly. “ I forgot 
that. I will give lessons on the piano.” 

She returned immediately to her teacher, to ask 
his permission to give lessons. Morini had repented 
of his cruel response, and not only granted the per- 
mission demanded, but promised to aid her in securing 
pupils. 

She must live somewhere. Ariadne advertised in 
the papers that a young lady, pupil of Morini, de- 
sired board and lodging in exchange for lessons ; she 
had several answers, and once or twice everything 
seemed to be arranged, when Ariadne would receive a 


124 


ARIADNE. 


short note saying the parties had changed their minds. 
It was some time before she understood the reason ; 
finally, after the fourth attempt, she guessed it. She 
was always asked where she had been educated ; she 
named the institute, of course. When persons in- 
quired at the institute, and found out she had been 
expelled, they shunned her as they would a leper. 

“ They are right,” thought Ariadne ; “ they can- 
not receive me in families where there are young girls 
— they would mistrust me. I would do the same in 
their place, but what injustice ! ” 

She was so far from thinking ill of people, even in 
her fits of most violent indignation, that she never ac- 
cused any one but Grabinof. She could not believe 
that she was the innocent victim of a conspiracy, and 
that the culprits were known. It was better for her 
that she did not know it, for such a discovery, in her 
present state, might have driven her to desperation. 

She was at the piano, one afternoon, singing for 
her consolation, when she heard the bell ring. The 
maid of Madame Sekourof, whom she had kept until 
something definite could be decided upon, opened the 
door ; but, before she had time to announce the vis- 
itor, Olga rushed into the little parlor. 

“ My poor Ariadne ! ” said the young princess, 
“ what trouble you are in ! But you did not tell me ; I 


ARTADNE. 


125 


did not know it until yesterday ; it is dreadful ! dread- 
ful ! ” 

“ What good would it have done ? ” murmured 
Ariadne ; “ you could not have helped me. Who told 
you ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; some one who was at our house 
yesterday. And what will you do ? When will you 
make your dehut f ” 

“ In two years,” said the young artist, sadly. 

‘‘ Two years ? My goodness ! That is a long time, 
and what will you do in the interim ? ” 

“ Work,” replied Ariadne, with resignation. 

“Work! that is very well, but you must live. 
Have you any fortune ? ” 

Ariadne shook her head. 

“ What do you live on ? ” 

“ Upon the gift of my protectress, who received 
me kindly when everybody else scorned me — excuse 
me — you were also kind when I was an object of re- 
proach and horror to others.” 

Olga cast her eyes down. A feeling of shame 
came over her whenever she thought of that frightful 
moment. 

“ I live,” continued Ariadne, with a certain tender- 
ness in her voice — “ I live upon what that good woman 
left me ; she who cared for me, fed and clothed me. 


126 


ARIADNE. 


who enabled me to become what I am ; and the ex- 
tent of her bounty I did not know until it was toa 
late to prove to her my gratitude.” 

“How too late?” said Olga, with a certain un- 
easiness. 

“Yes, I learned some hours before her death that 
I had been, not, as I believed, expelled from the insti- 
tute for insubordination, but sent away for bad con- 
duct ; driven out for having received a young man.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Olga, with a sigh. 

“ My shame is so well known that it was spoken 
of the other night at the concert, and yet you know 
that I never thought of anything but God and 
music.” 

“ Ah ! certainly,” said Olga, involuntarily ; “ if 
any one ever thought evil, he could not impute it to 
you.” 

“ Never mind,” continued Ariadne, who spoke from 
the fullness of a wounded heart, “ I am judged, con- 
demned. I may die from hunger, for I cannot find a 
shelter ! Fortunately, my benefactress did not be- 
lieve me guilty ; she knew very well I was innocent, 
and she left me all she had.” 

“ How much ? ” 

“Sixteen and a half rubles a month for board. 

‘ That is bread,’ she said. O my venerated benefac- 


ARIADNE. 


127 


tress, you charged me not to give up ; certainly I 
should not disobey your order ! It would be gross in- 
gratitude ! ” 

Ariadne wept bitterly, with her face in her hands ; 
she had revealed the secret of her thoughts since the 
loss of Madame Sekourof. In the agony of her deso- 
lation she vowed she would ever be an irreproachable 
woman, whatever she might suffer, to be an honor to 
her who had protected her when all others slandered 
her. 

Olga allowed the sorrowful orphan to weep ; her 
own eyes were dim with tears, but a stinging remorse 
forbade her to mingle her tears with those of Ariadne. 
She dared not offer to console the innocent girl, who 
was bearing such a burden, and for no fault of 
hers. 

“ Ah ! if I had known ! ” thought the princess 
Olga ; “ if I had known the wrong I was doing an- 
other ! ” 

The remembrance of those scenes in the dining- 
room of the institute, which had cost her companion 
such sorrow, made her blush. She would have given 
all her fortune to be innocent. “And yet I have 
done nothing wrong,” murmured indomitable Pride. 

“ But see what you have made her suffer,” replied 
Conscience. 


128 


ARIADNE, 


Where will you live ? ” asked Olga, gently, when 
she saw Ariadne’s tears were nearly exhausted, as she 
rested her head on Olga’s shoulder. 

“ Nowhere,” replied the unfortunate girl. “No- 
body wants me ; my past history will prevent my 
finding an honorable shelter.” 

“ Can you not give lessons ? ” suggested the rich 
heiress, timidly. 

“ No one will take lessons of me ! ” cried Ariadne, 
rising suddenly. “Remember that I am disgraced, 
that no mother will allow her daughter to speak to 
me, that I can only find a home where the honesty of 
women is not regarded. I am lost ! Lost until I go 
on the stage ! I shall not be much better then, but the 
stage is not particular about morals.” 

She turned away with bitterness. 

“ Listen, Olga,” she added : “ this is not the place 
for you ; you do yourself a wrong in coming to see 
me ; nobody comes to see me ; I am not a person one 
can visit. Let me thank you for the friendship you 
have shown for me, which commenced with my mis- 
fortune. Therefore it is the more noble and gener- 
ous, but it will be fatal to you. Good-by t kiss me, 
and do not come here again.” 

“ Come to see me,” replied Olga, who felt insig- 
nificant before her friend. 


ARIADNE. 


129 


‘‘ITo, I cannot go to sec you, because your mother 
will not allow it.” 

Olga arose, stood there undecided, as if listening 
to an inward voice. 

“ Good-by,” said she, brusquely, kissed her com- 
panion, and left. 

Ariadne heard the carriage roll away. 

‘‘ I have nobody in the world now,” said she, aloud. 
The sound of her voice frightened her ; she was accus- 
tomed to solitude. 

She paced several times around the empty apart- 
ment ; even the furniture had been taken away by 
the avaricious heirs ; and she was tempted to give 
vent to her feelings by a flood of tears, but bowed 
her head with submission before an invisible hand, 
murmuring : 

“ ‘ Be patient and forgiving.’ Those were her last 
commands. I will be patient and forgiving.” 

She went to the piano, and gradually peace came 
to her weary soul, that peace which Art brings to her 
votaries. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Olga, on her return home, found her mother ab- 
sent. Sending away the maid who had accompanied 
her on her expedition, she sat down in the little con- 


130 


ARIADNE. 


servatory adjoining the yellow parlor, and became ab- 
sorbed in anything but happy meditations. What 
she thought of, and resolved to do, gave her such an 
expression of firmness and determination that her 
mother, who had now joined her, looked at her fixed- 
ly, and said : 

“ Heavens ! what a face ! Why this determined 
mien 

“ I have something to tell you,” replied the young 
girl, evasively. ‘‘ Can I speak to you in private ? ” 

The princess looked at her daughter with astonish- 
ment. 

‘‘ Perhaps,” thought she, “ she has done some 
silly thing.” ‘‘Come into my dressing-room,” said 
the princess, seriously. “We can talk while I am 
dressing for dinner.” 

She went in advance, and the daughter followed, 
into the large, delightfully-perfumed apartment which 
was used for a dressing-room. A maid, brought from 
Lower Russia expressly because she did not under- 
stand French, came to assist the princess, and Olga 
sat on a low sofa in front ®f her mother, who stood 
before a large mirror. 

“Mamma,” said she, “I heard to-day a very 
strange story. I want to tell you about it.” 

Delighted to think her daughter’s strange expres- 


ARIADNE, 


131 


sion was caused by a simple, romantic story, the prin- 
cess consented by nodding her head, while the maid 
was taking off her dress. 

“ Know, then, mamma,” commenced the young 
girl, “ that there happened in the institute of young 
ladies, a long time ago, something very strange ; sev- 
eral pupils in the graduating class thought they would 
have a little fun without the knowledge of the teach- 
ers, as they had very little opportunity to amuse them- 
selves in the institute, and they decided upon a very 
dangerous diversion.” 

The princess smiled in an abstracted manner, be- 
ing wholly interested in her toilet ; and Olga con- 
tinued : 

‘‘Among the young men the superior received — for 
she had a large family and many acquaintances — there 
were two who used to stop on the stairs and talk to 
the girls ; a third, who also visited the directress, pro- 
posed one night to some of the scholars they should 
have a supper in the dining-room, after every one else 
had gone to bed. There was one girl who was very 
greedy ; at last they accepted the invitation.” 

“ What nonsense are you talking ? ” said the prin- 
cess, knitting her aristocratic brow. 

“ It is the truth, mamma, I assure you. The three 
girls left the dormitory at eleven o’clock, passed by 


132 


ARIADNE. 


the governess, who was snoring like an organ-pipe, 
went into the dining-room, and there the young men 
had brought something to eat ; and they all took sup- 
per together secretly.” 

‘‘ And they were not caught in this charming oc- 
cupation ? ” asked the princess, who began to be 
amused at the recital. 

“ Precisely, dear mamma — ^the directress surprised 
them one day ; but that day the young ladies had 
not come, because they were prevented by a stricter 
watch than usual, and the superior found only the 
gentlemen.” 

“Well, I suppose she caused them to repent ? ” said 
the princess, laughing at the idea of the young men 
confronting the old lady. 

“No, mamma; probably the affair never would have 
been known if a chambermaid had not blabbed. But 
the next day the whole institute knew it. You under- 
stand, mamma,” added Olga, with bitterness, “ they 
could not let such a violation of the rules go un- 
punished — they must make an example.” 

“ I know that story,” said the princess, tiying to 
remember something about it ; but the adventure in 
the institute had escaped her memory long ago ; for 
when she found the guilty one was of humble birth, 
it was not worth while to remember it. 


ARIADNE. 


133 


“ I believe you did know it, mamma ; at least it was 
told you.” 

‘‘ They expelled the young girl,” said the prin- 
cess. 

Olga tried to say something; her cheeks were 
burning, and eyes flashing. 

‘‘ You can well imagine, mamma,” continued she, 
looking her mother full in the face, ‘‘ that the rule re- 
quired a victim, and they did expel a young girl, but 
that girl was innocent.” 

“How?” said the princess, lifting up her eyes. 
She stood as one petrifled at seeing her daughter’s ex- 
pression — so strange and painful. 

“Yes, mother, she is innocent, and at this moment 
she cannot make a living because she is believed to be 
guilty ; she must die from hunger, while the real cul- 
prits are happy and esteemed by every one. Is it not 
horrible ? ” 

“ Horrible, indeed ! ” murmured the princess ; 
“ but was it not an invention of the girl’s to make 
herself interesting ? ” 

“ Mother ! ” cried Olga, pale with indignation. 

“For,” continued the noble lady, “why should 
they punish an innocent girl ? That would cause the 
worst suspicions. I do not believe a word of the 
story. Who told it to you ? ” 


134 


ARIADNE. 


‘‘ Mother ! ” cried the indignant girl the second 
time ; “ the innocent victim is Ariadne Ranine, and 
one of the guilty am I.” 

Olga looked at her mother, not to defy her, but to 
prove the truth of her words. 

“ You ! you ! ” repeated the princess, who believed 
her child was demented. 

“ I ! And I was cowardly enough to permit Ari- 
adne to be sent away, when it was my first duty to 
confess my guilt. I saw her fall unconscious, heard 
her moans, and even went as far as the door with her ; 
yet I said nothing. I did not speak then, mother, be- 
cause I did not believe an innocent girl would be dis- 
graced for life. I thought in three weeks it would all 
be forgotten, and I thought of my mother, my father, 
of the name I bore, and said to myself, ‘If your 
daughter were sent away like this, you would both die 
of shame and Ariadne had neither father nor 
mother.” 

Olga was silent. The princess stepped back a 
little. The conversation took place in French ; the 
maid, thinking they were disputing, went out of the 
room. 

“You, an Orline !” repeated the princess. “You 
had a rendezvous ! You took supper at night ! ” 

“ In the dining-room,” said the guilty one, quietly. 


ARIADNE. 


135 


‘‘ Is it possible that you so far forgot what was ex- 
pected of you ? ” 

‘‘ I am guilty, mother, and I condemn myself ; but 
I was never told wbat was expected of me. At the 
institute they gave general rules, good for everybody 
and for nobody ; and then they were continually tell- 
ing me that an Olga Orline could do anything that 
came into her mind ; my misdemeanors were passed 
by unnoticed ; not because they did not know them, 
but because they did not want to punish me. It is 
only since I have had the happiness to live under your 
protection that I have learned what my duties are, and 
have trembled at my misconduct. It was only to-day 
that, seeing the harm I caused an innocent girl, I un- 
derstood that my silence was more than a fault — it 
was a crime.” 

‘‘A crime ! You are not going to denounce your- 
self, I suppose ? ” said the princess, with all the pride of 
a haughty woman who despises a plebeian. 

“ If there is no other way of reinstating Ariadne, 
I shall do it,” replied Olga, bravely. 

There was silence. The princess looked around 
her, saw it was late, and rang for the maid. 

“ Go and dress yourself,” said she to her daughter. 
“We will talk of this later.” 

“ Does my mother forgive me ? ” asked Olga, sub- 


136 


ARIADNE. 


missively, and with all the tact she knew so well how 
to use. 

The princess could not be severe ; it was so long 
ago — who would remember the story ? She smiled, 
and allowed her daughter to kiss her hand. 

“We will see,” said she. 

But she had already forgiven her. 


CHAPTER XX. 

If the princess had been spoiled by a gay and 
frivolous life, she had a generous heart ; her judg- 
ment, often biased under ordinary circumstances by 
her despotic power in her home circle, when serious 
questions arose, was very resolute and firm. 

During and after dinner, while talking with those 
around her, she was thinking what she should do ; 
and when her daughter came to her, as she was un- 
dressing, about midnight, she had solved the ques- 
tion. 

“ If I understood you rightly,” said she, “ you ac- 
knowledge yourself guilty of a great wrong done that 
young girl of whom we were speaking, and you wish 
to atone for it ? ” 

Olga, in reply, threw herself around her mother’s 


ARIADNE. 


137 


neck, almost smotkering her witk kisses. This proof 
of affection softened the princess’s heart more than 
ever. 

“ But first tell me how you learned the results of 
this unfortunate affair.” 

In a few words Olga acquainted her mother with 
Ariadne’s life since she had left the institute. 

“ If you had seen her, mamma,” said she, “ if you 
knew with what courage she bore her misfortune ! 
And, when we reflect that she has no home — ” 

“ I have thought,” said the princess, “ that if we 
could give her a suitable settlement she might marry, 
and in the mean time live on the income.” 

‘‘And where do you think, mamma,” replied Olga, 
“ this poor girl can find a husband if she never sees 
any good society ? Husbands will not look for her in 
any but a respectable house, and there she cannot ob- 
tain board.” 

The princess said nothing ; it was indeed an em- 
barrassing situation. 

“Do you know, my dear mamma,” replied the 
young girl, “ what I must do to ease my conscience ? 
For my conscience has for a long time reproached me, 
as your kindness has comforted me ; we must offer 
Ariadne a home.” 

“ I am willing,” said the princess. “ I am ready 


138 


ARIADNE. 


to express my kindest feelings. Does she know you 
are the involuntary cause — ? ” 

No, mamma, she knows nothing ; it was only a 
little while ago she heard with what she was charged. 
But, mamma, to give her a dowry would be to tell her 
all, and I, who know her so well, am certain she would 
refuse your favors if she surmised their reason. Per- 
mit me to state, mamma, what you must do to be a 
true Orline, great and generous, like all our race. 
You must make Ariadne an inmate of our home — 
here, in this house.” 

“ In my house ? ” cried the princess. 

In our house, my dear mamma. In the eyes of 
the world the object will be to give me music-lessons. 
Oh, do not be afraid, I will not cause any annoyance,” 
added the young girl. The princess did not like mu- 
sic in her own house, but she adored it away from 
home, when she did not hear the practising. 

Ariadne is a great artist ; her music can never 
bore you ; she is so sweet, so well brought up. I am 
often alone, I ought to have a companion. And then, 
mamma, if she has no home, it is my fault. If you 
love me, and have really forgiven me, you will do 
what I ask.” 

Olga was on her knees, her arms around the prin- 
cess. What mother could have refused ? Not the 


ARIADNE. 


139 


princess, who felt how heavy and sacred was the debt 
her daughter owed the orphan-girl. 

“ I will do it,” said she. “ You will fetch her to- 
morrow.” 

Olga looked at her watch, and regretted it was too 
late to go to her that night. 

She lavished many grateful kisses upon her moth- 
er, and was so full of joy she could scarcely sleep. 


CHAPTER XXL 

Ariadne had been settled eight days in the Orline 
mansion ; and it seemed to her still a dream. She had 
received many proofs of esteem and friendship from 
the princess, and Olga treated her so kindly that the 
orphan could not believe it was reality. 

However, she very soon fell into her new position, 
for her instincts inclined toward everything that was 
rich and beautiful. 

The only painful thing was her taking off mourn- 
ing for her benefactress at the oft-repeated request of 
Olga, for the princess, like all Russian ladies of her 
time, did not like mourning worn in her house. 

Although Ariadne’s life was happy far beyond 


140 


ARIADNE. 


what she had anticipated, her head was tortured by 
imaginary ills. She feared sometimes her presence 
annoyed Olga ; but the princess quieted her fears, al- 
though her manner wounded her sensitiveness. 

“No one under my roof,” said the noble lady, 
“can be slighted. You are, mademoiselle, safe and 
sound with me.” 

Ariadne thanked her, but with a heart full. It 
grieved her, because she thought she was not esteemed 
for herself. Nothing could make amends for the 
past. 

The princess had compelled Olga to promise that 
she would not tell her friend what had happened ; it 
was upon this condition she received Ariadne into her 
house. 

The Orline mansion was an open house, and much 
frequented ; the princess gave a dinner every Tues- 
day, and a ball twice a month during the winter ; a 
box at the Italian opera-house occupied another day, 
and this box was to Ariadne a source of indescriba- 
ble joy. The princess rarely used it, but sent her 
daughter and Ariadne wdth a chaperon selected from 
the numerous poor, ugly, and old relations, to whom 
she very charitably wished to give a little pleasure 
now and then. It was there Ariadne learned how 
much real happiness music could give to a soul created 


ARIADNE. 


141 


to feel it ; her talent from this time became stronger 
and more matured. 

She had been with the princess about a month, 
when, one Monday, at the Italian opera, she remarked 
an opera-glass leveled directly at her. At first she 
pretended not to see it, but the glass followed her with 
such persistency that she took up hers, scanned the 
audience, directed a scornful glance to the insolent 
glass, and then assumed her usual indifference. It dis- 
appeared, and instead of the two round pieces of glass 
in a black case, Ariadne perceived the great, round, 
black eyes of General Fr6mof. 

The young girl could not conceal her agitation ; 
she had never seen the general but once, at her second 
concert ; but the remembrance of the keenest sorrow 
of her life was recalled by the face of that rou^, and 
she could not forget it. 

She tried to think of other things ; to become ab- 
sorbed in the music ; to be interested in generous, 
cheerful thoughts ; but to no purpose. That man’s 
looks, and the remembrance of his words, haunted her 
until morning, all during the long hours of a fever- 
ish sleep. 

Perhaps,” said she to herself, ‘‘ I shall never see 
him again ! ” 

She dared not hope it. However, it was something 


142 


ARIADNE. 


to have passed two months without meeting the man 
who was so odious to her. 

It was not long before she saw him again. 

The following Thursday — ^the day of the dancing 
party — the first arrival was a man who seemed to 
desire a little time to chat with the ladies before the 
other guests arrived. 

“ It has been a long time since we have seen you, 
general ! ” said the princess, pointing to a chair near 
her. 

“ I have been visiting my estates,” replied the gen- 
eral. ‘‘ I left here after a beautiful concert given at 
the ‘Chanters’ Hall.’” 

The princess noticed his eyes glanced in the direc- 
tion of Ariadne. 

“ This young lady’s, probably,” said she, making a 
little movement with her fan. 

The general took advantage of a new arrival to 
draw nearer to Ariadne. 

“I am already one of your warmest admirers, 
mademoiselle, and” — he imperceptibly lowered his 
voice — “ it remains with you to permit me to become 
more so.” 

Ariadne felt the insult, and blushed all over. Her 
superb shoulders colored up suddenly, and the general 
gazed at her like an amateur before a beautiful picture. 


ARIADNE. 


143 


The guests surrounded the princess ; the young girl 
stepped back to make room for them, but the general 
was not a man to be abashed. 

“ Let me beg you at least to put my name down,” 
said he, lower still ; “ if your heart is engaged for the 
moment, let me have my turn.” 

“ Sir ! ” said Ariadne, between her teeth, “ you are 
a coward ! ” 

The princess turned quickly around. She alone in 
the group had heard the reply, not the provocation ; 
the look which the general had given Ariadne had 
doubtless put her on the watch. 

“ General,” said she, “ they are playing yonder, 
and you do not, I think, waltz ; make way for the 
dancers.” 

The general left, after having made a fool of him- 
self, and gave Ariadne a leer to increase the measure 
of his rudeness. 

The only way to excuse his conduct was to avow 
that he had the worst opinion of women in general 
and in particular. He was a man who was too weak 
to have a character of his own, so he borrowed 
one ready-made, and often selected a very bad one. 
He was so sure of feminine perversity that he had 
slandered Ariadne as coolly as he would swallow a 
glass of water ; and he had just insulted her with the 


144 


ARIADNE. 


same heartlessness. He had promised himseK numer- 
ous adventures with her ; and what more natural than 
to tell a pretty woman, “I am your humble servant 
and admirer ? ” 

The princess saw Ariadne’s anger, heard her words, 
and, fearing there might be some dispute, she tried a 
diversion, which succeeded. 

“ M. Constantin Ladof,” said she, leading a young 
man with whom she was talking before Ariadne, still 
pale with emotion, “ Mile. Ranine.” 

“Can I have the pleasure of the next quadrille 
with you ? ” said Constantin Ladof, with his musical 
voice. 

Ariadne turned paler, blushed, bowed mechanically, 
passed her arm in his, and breathed more freely, when 
they joined in the quadrille. 

“ Ah ! mademoiselle, if you only knew the trouble 
I have had to get acquainted with you ! Your voice 
made such an impression upon me, for two nights I 
could not sleep. Angels must have taught you to 
sing ! Do you know — it is foolish to say so while we 
are dancing — ^but you moved me to tears ! ” 

Ariadne looked at the young man, and thought his 
blue eyes as honest and sincere as his words, smiled, 
and responded gracefully, and said to herself, “ He, at 
least, will not despise me.” 


ARIADNE, 


145 


Toward the end of the evening, as the company 
was leaving, General Fremof, always full of conceit, 
approached the hostess to say good-night, and received 
a very unexpected compliment. 

‘‘ You are a had fellow, general,” said the princess, 
in an undertone, and a little reproachfully. “ Bad fel- 
lows are well enough among themselves, or with old 
ladies who fear nothing ; but I have young ladies to 
marry, and you must not come again to my house as 
long as there are young girls here.” 

“ To hear is to obey,” said Fremof, politely, as he 
kissed the hand which showed him the door. “ Try 
to make it very soon, princess.” 

The princess could not help laughing. However, 
Ariadne should not submit to an insult. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“ I CAN be spoken to in that way ! ” thought the 
young cantatrice, as she sat on the little sofa in her 
room, in a state of despondency, which often follows 
great indignation. “ There are men who think they 
have the right to insult me, and coolly make such 
propositions to me ! How can I be revenged ? Who 
7 


146 


ARIADNE. 


will save me ? Who will say to their faces, ‘ You are 
liars and cowards ? ’ ” 

Ariadne expected help from no one, and from that 
time she resolved to retire more and more from the 
world. The sacrifice was accomplished without no- 
tice, and even without regret. This world seemed not 
to be made for her ; she could find no real sympathy 
in it ; she crossed it as a bird of passage traverses a 
country which separates her from her nest. Art was 
her true country ; and it was in art she would find 
joys which would compensate for all her trials. 

This resolution inspired her with that calmness of 
mind which generally followed one of her inward 
struggles. 

Two years she was still to endure these sufferings ; 
she awaited the end without impatience. 

The day after the ball, the princess appeared at 
the breakfast-table, as polite and affable as ever. This 
serenity was not affected, for the princess was not one 
to be easily disconcerted. Calamities had not spared 
her aristocratic head. She had loved and mourned a 
young husband ; but, with time, she had become re- 
signed to her fate, as her face portrayed to those who 
were not admitted to her confidence. Her intimate 
friends were few. 

She breakfasted with the two young girls in the 


ARIADNE. 


147 


best of humors. As she left the table, and slipped 
away from her daughter, she passed into the conserva- 
tory to take coffee, according to her custom, and, in 
going, said to Ariadne, in a low voice : 

“General Fremof was a little familiar with you 
last night.” 

The young artist turned pale and suppressed a 
shudder, but replied : 

“ Yes, princess.” 

“Well,” said the noble lady, sitting down, “he will 
never come again. I tell you this, my child, to prove 
to you how determined I am to protect you from all 
impertinence. You will not be offended if I ask you 
to be as prudent as possible ; but I am sure I need 
have no fears on that score.” 

This was a very unexpected protection, though the 
young girl was a little disturbed in mind. The prin- 
cess should have known it was not necessary to warn 
her to be prudent. However, Ariadne tried to forget 
this regret, and to think only of the favors she was 
receiving. 

Thus the winter passed. Nothing happened to 
interrupt the entertainments, theatres, and receptions, 
until Lent. 

Ariadne appeared at the princess’s balls, dancing 
with some insignificant man when a vis-d-vis was 


148 


ARIADNE. 


needed, and stiffening herself into icy coldness when 
some more brilliant partner presented himself. 

This wise conduct excited the praises of the prin- 
cess many times ; she could not help admiring such 
modesty and discretion. Upon several occasions she 
expressed her entire satisfaction, judging Ariadne 
worthy of her esteem and confidence. Ariadne had 
made a friend of the princess, and her friendship was 
not easUy gained. 

Among the insignificant men with whom Ariadne 
danced sometimes was Constantin Ladof. He was of 
good family. If he had not been, Orline House would 
not have welcomed him. His income was about ten 
thousand rubles a year ; but that was nothing in this 
set, where the most extravagant luxury was considered 
a necessity. He had one great advantage : he had no 
relatives, consequently was free to do as he pleased. 
But what benefit was that to a man such as he was, 
in search of a lever, or stepping-stone, to a greater 
fortune ? 

Constantin Ladof was a very amiable, unimportant 
young man. Instead of wearing a uniform, which 
gives one so much grace, and makes a man so con- 
spicuous, he unluckily entered diplomacy. A civil 
functionary is, according to custom, a hundred times 
lower than a soldier. If Ladof had been an officer of 


ARIADNE. 


149 


the guard, he would have been a brilliant young man ; 
but employed in the ministry, he was simply a pleas- 
ant fellow, which was not at all the same thing. 

Russian mothers were too willing to allow these 
pleasant young men to fly around their daughters ; 
they had seen each other grow up, were most familiar, 
although the young girls thought no more of them 
than they did of summer-nights’ insects ; yet there 
was a secret pleasure and pride in being courted and 
attended by the amiable boys. Juvenile enthusiasm 
dies out with age ; but friendship, confidence, mutual 
esteem, last always. This is the reason why there are 
so many young men of twenty-five or thirty-five years 
of age, who frequent the salons of women of forty 
who have renounced all coquetry, but have not given 
up the pleasure of being admired and flattered. 

Unfortunately, this picture has a dark side. Young 
girls, reared in this atmosphere of courteous, chival- 
rous deference, become so accustomed to flirting day 
by day that they think it after a while a necessity. 

“ Mamma is so handsome, and she jokes so much 
with the young men ! Why could not the daughter 
do likewise ? ” 

But “ mamma,” if she knew it, would scold the 
daughter severely ; then the young girl has to manage 
her little arsenal of tricks and ruses under mamma’s 


150 


ARIADNE. 


eyes ; she flirts in corners, while mamma serves the 
tea in the large parlor, surrounded by young men not 
yet out of their teens, who wait upon the hostess with 
great deference, until some new relays come in. 

Constantin Ladof made himself quite at home in 
the Princess Orline’s house, and she showed him as 
much attention and kindness as she would a handsome 
dog, accustomed to eating sugar out of her hand. 
Ladof being of so little consequence, no one prevented 
his coming and going, bringing music, accompanying 
Ariadne when she sang, playing duets with Olga when 
she was forced to play on the piano, which was not 
often. It was Ladof who bought tickets for concerts 
or theatres ; it was he whom they sent out for ice- 
cream when they were thirsty ; but it was not he who 
paid for them ; it was understood the princess ac- 
cepted nothing from gentlemen but politeness. 

Ariadne knew that Ladof was a man of no conse- 
quence ; the princess expressed herself very freely up- 
on the subject one day, when Olga dwelt too long 
upon the merits of the amiable young man ; and thus 
Ariadne was permitted to talk to him sometimes, and 
even to give him a sort of key to her soul. 

Constantin Ladof was the only person who knew 
what Ariadne was thinking of when her eyes had that 
strange expression, as if she had left this living world. 


ARIADNE. 


151 


and was dwelling upon some mysterious dream. He 
knew it because he had asked her : 

“ What are you thinking of, mademoiselle, when 
you no longer see anybody ? ” 

Ariadne looked at him an instant, and replied, in a 
serious tone : 

“ I hear something that sings within me.” 

Constantin looked at her in turn, and said noth- 
ing, This silence, which was compromising, opened 
Ariadne’s heart ; she felt with Ladof she could talk 
of art, for he loved music passionately, and she knew 
he esteemed and honored her. 

One day, summing up courage to speak, while her 
whole frame trembled with terror at the thought of 
the response he might make, she asked him : 

“Do you know, M. Constantin, that much ill has 
been said of me V ” 

To this the young man, who had heard the slan- 
ders about Ariadne, replied, shrugging his shoulders : 

“The fools ! what difference does that make ? You 
are much too good to think of such things.” 

At these words Ariadne closed her eyes, that she 
might enjoy the warm, effulgent happiness which 
passed through her. She was then esteemed by this 
young blond, with blue eyes and honest, intelligent 
face ! She had a friend ! 


152 


ARIADNE. 


On another occasion Ladof, after talking with her 
an hour — Olga being the subject of conversation — 
said to her suddenly : 

“You are the best creature in the world! If I 
had a sister I would wish her to be like you, or rather 
I wish that you were my sister.” 

“ I do not wish you were my brother,” thought 
Ariadne. 

But there was no bitterness in the thought, for she 
extended to him her hand, to which she would have 
preferred to give him a greater right than the frater- 
nal tie. 

She allowed Ladof to penetrate by degrees into 
the inmost secrets of her heart. He was always in her 
thoughts. Up to this time she had tried to find in 
the roles she was studying the poetical and passionate 
expression of maternal love ; she now looked there 
for the passion of love, and found it. Her magnifi- 
cent voice made the chords in the piano tremble with 
the strains of sublime tenderness, such as she had 
never felt before. 

“ There was, then, something besides art ! ” said 
Ariadne, quite subdued, as she felt a something in her 
which soothed the distended fibres of a troubled heart. 
“ I belong no more to myself. If he wishes it, I will 
renounce the theatre.” 


ARIADNE. 


153 


This was the greatest sacrifice Ariadne could 
make ; she offered it to Constantin from the depth 
of her heart, but no one knew it, for Ariadne’s resolu- 
tions were a secret between her and her conscience. 

Constantin was far from dreaming of such a sac- 
rifice, as far from it as from suspecting its cause. He 
was master of the orphan’s heart without knowing it, 
for he had expressed his feelings exactly when he said 
he “ would wish her for a sister,” nothing more. He 
wished her for a sister because he was madly in love 
with the young Princess Olga. 

Olga did not intend to lose her power over Ladof, 
still she had no desire to be drawn into a regular flir- 
tation ; the remembrance of the institute was too dis- 
agreeable for her to compromise herself in the least, 
by word or look ; and she had snubbed him the first 
time he showed her any marked attention, so that he 
thought it more prudent to withdraw for a time. It 
was then, when he was the timid but resolute lover, 
dreaming of his idol, that he made Ariadne love him, 
certainly without any effort of his. 

Winter glided into spring ; the princess rented a 
magnificent villa at Pavlovsk, for she loved fashion- 
able life, and rarely ever had any desire to “ bury her- 
self,” as she expressed it, on her own distant estates. 
This was a summer full of exquisite joy for Ariadne. 


154 


ARIADNE. 


All she knew of Nature she had learned in the gar- 
den of the institute. The flowers, lawn, shady nooks 
in the park at Pavlovsk opened to her soul emotions 
as new and delicious as a blind man feels when he 
first sees light. She did not know whether it was 
young love budding, or the beauty of the old trees, 
which caused so many strange voices to sing within 
her. What did she care ? The voices sang, and she 
listened to them in rapture ; this was enough to fill 
her with joy. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

One July evening — it was Monday, the fashionable 
day — a select audience was listening to Johann Strauss’s 
orchestra, then at the height of its renown ; and natu- 
rally the Princess Orline, with her daughter and the 
young cantatrice, had the best seats in the garden, and 
were dressed in the latest Parisian style. Her escort, 
a little less numerous than in the city, formed around 
her a guard of honor, and Constantin Ladof, who had 
arrived by the half-past-seven train, was enjoying 
Mile. Olga’s society, who was a little more polite to 
him than usual. Ariadne was listening to the orches- 
tra ; she had given her heart to Ladof ; but when 


ARIADNE. 


155 


Art spoke, her voice was more powerful than any 
other. 

‘‘ Bah ! ” replied Olga to a phrase of Ladof’s ; 
“ men are full of promises, but when you want them 
to act, they boldly back out.” 

“ The books which taught you that have deceived 
you, mademoiselle,” replied Constantin, “ for I swear — ” 

“What?” 

“ That if you deign to command me to do any- 
thing — ” 

Olga looked contemptuously at the young man 
through her long lashes. 

“ I will do it,” concluded Ladof — “ I will do it at 
the risk of my life ! ” 

“ What an idea ! ” murmured Olga, frightened at 
his impassioned tone and earnest look. 

“ Put me to the test ! ” said the young man, em- 
boldened by a crescendo in the orchestra, which he 
hoped would continue some time. 

“ Why do you want me to put you to the test ? ” 
asked Olga, faintly, for she knew the answer before 
she heard it. 

“ Because a poor fellow like me dares not love a 
person such as you, unless he has done something to 
draw her to him. You are too rich, mademoiselle, 
and of a family too illustrious for me to aspire to 


156 


ARIAm^E. 


your hand ; and yet I love you — yes, love you better 
than my life ! ” 

Constantin spoke in a low voice, with eyes cast 
down, for two hundred persons could turn toward 
them at the slightest noise, and the princess was only 
two steps away. But when he had finished, he cast 
his eyes upon the young girl, with such a strange look: 
there was in it a question, and almost a promise, at the 
same time. 

‘‘Would you really do something for me ? ” asked 
Olga, playing with her fan. 

“ Anything.’’ 

“Well, naake that man leave Pavlovsk ; I cannot 
bear the sight of him ! ” 

Ladof followed the direction of her fan, and dis- 
covered Madame Batourof’s nephew, who was one of 
the trio in the institute. 

“What has he done to you?” asked the young 
man, innocently. 

“ What difference does that make ? ” murmured 
Olga. “ I hate him ! ” 

Constantin became serious ; such words from the 
lips of a fashionable girl must have a meaning. 

“ You see,” replied Olga, in a joking manner, “ I 
was right when I said ‘ all ended in promises ! ’ ” 

“ No, mademoiselle,” said Ladof, firmly ; “ but a 


ARIADNE. 


157 


man whom you hate, and have reason to hate, ought 
to leave, and he shall leave. However, I must know — ” 
Come to me to-morrow afternoon,” said Olga ; 
“ we will find a minute to talk, and I will tell you why 
I hate him.” 

The piece ended. It was impossible for them to 
exchange another word before the evening finished. 

Olga went home, wondering why she had said any- 
thing so compromising to Ladof. It would he very 
hard for her to retreat now. The truth was, this 
stay in Pavlovsk, which was so delicious for Ariadne, 
was a punishment for the young princess. She was 
continually meeting Batourof, who stared at her so 
impertinently, that it put her in a rage. She felt like 
grinding him to powder, for he recalled so vividly 
that folly of hers at the institute, which she thought 
had been forgotten. And when he gazed at her, she 
not only suffered from her woman’s pride, but felt 
weighed down with Ariadne’s misfortune— the sting 
of remorse and shame wounded her haughty nature. 

Batourof had not a bad heart. He was fond of 
teasing ; it pleased him, as he said, to vex the little 
Orline.” 

He had not any ambitious aim when he visited the 
institute, for he had not committed himself in any 
way, and Olga had not to reproach herself for any 


158 


ARIADNE. 


familiarity. Those visits were simply a frolic, and if 
he had known how he annoyed the young girl he 
would probably have given up the pleasure of staring 
at her ; but he enjoyed the fun too much at present. 

Olga, however, had reached that degree of indig- 
nation which made her dangerous ; she would have 
killed Batourof without regret if she had been 
able. 

In speaking to Ladof, she had acted under great 
nervous excitement, produced by long-suppressed an- 
ger. When she became more composed she wanted 
to retract, and found that she was less indifferent to 
Constantin’s love than she was willing to admit. To 
tell the truth, she began to think more seriously of 
him from the day her mother had rallied her about 
dilating upon his many virtues. 

Many romantic passions are developed in the 
hearts of young girls because their mothers suppress 
their first confidences about their lovers. 

Olga vaguely hoped that Ladof would not come. 
Vain idea ! At four o’clock he was on the terrace, 
talking with the princess, in a more indifferent man- 
ner than usual. 

Certainly, Olga’s conduct was very strange, and 
gave rise to many suppositions. It was one hour 
before he was able to go into the garden. At last. 


ARIADNE. 


159 


when a lady invited to dinner made her appearance, 
he hastened to descend the steps which separated the 
terrace from the garden ; here he found Olga, who, 
for one hour, had been pacing up and down the par- 
terre, with the impatience of a caged lioness. 

That hour of waiting had done her a great deal of 
harm, for in the beginning of her walk she had de- 
cided to turn the affair into fun ; but toward the 
second half hour, Batourof had passed that way and 
had winked at her; this familiarity changed her mind 
completely, and she waited for Ladof as her delivering 
angel. 

Well, mademoiselle ? ” said he, coming near her. 

“ Well, moniseur, Batourof must die ; or he must 
cease the insolent conduct he has kept up so long 
toward me ! ” 

Ladof, dumfounded, stood before her, pale with 
indignation, scarcely daring to believe his ears. 

“ Yes ! ” cried Olga; ‘‘because I was foolish enough 
to joke with him one day at the institute — ^not alone, 
but with others — ^because M. Batourof was my gallant, 
and brought me bonbons, he thinks he has the right 
now to stare at me in the most offensive manner. . . . 
I hate him ! I hate him ! ” repeated Olga, stamping 
her foot. 

She suddenly burst into tears. Fortunately the 


160 


ARIADNE. 


bushes in the parterre screened the pair from the 
spectators on the terrace. Ladof ventured to question 
her, and finally discovered the cause of the Princess 
Olga’s sorrows. 

“ It is very serious,” said he. 

At twenty-three such things seem very serious. 

“You shall be obeyed, mademoiselle,” replied he, 
“ whatever may happen,” 

Olga regretted having said so much. In theory it 
was very easy to make a man disappear; but when 
put in practice, it meant a duel — and the young girl 
had sense enough to know that there would be a duel 
— this altered the case. 

“ Is there no way ? ” said she, timidly. 

“ Olga ! ” called the princess. “ Olga, where are 
you ? ” 

The young girl ran off, not, however, without 
offering her hand to Ladof, who had only time to 
kiss it. 

During the evening, Olga looked so pale that the 
princess became uneasy, and sent her to bed at nine 
o’clock. The poor child was delighted, for she was 
in a very uneasy frame of mind. 

Going to bed so willingly, Olga foresaw a visit 
from her mother, and she called Ariadne, whose room 
adjoined hers. 


ARIADNE. 


161 


“Sister Ariadne,” said the young enthusiast, “I 
must ease my conscience. I have wronged you ! ” 

Olga hesitated, and asked herself why she should 
make this confession ; but she had commenced the 
outpouring of her heart, and her honest nature, so 
long restrained, wanted now to be relieved. 

“ You ? toward me ? ” said Ariadne. 

“Yes ; sit down on the bed, give me your hand, 
and promise me that what I am going to tell you will 
not make you cease to love me.” 

“ I promise it,” said Ariadne, smiling. 

“Well ! when you were so shamefully expelled 
from the institute, there were those who were guilty 
— you knew it.” 

Ariadne bowed her head. It grieved her to recall 
the painful scene. 

Olga turned her head away a moment, but her 
courage and uprightness sustained her. 

“ There were some young ladies who did a very 
foolish thing, and among them there was — ” 

“ Who ? ” said Ariadne, innocently. 

“ I ! ” replied Olga, leaning on her pillow. 

“ You ! ” repeated Ariadne, in a dreamy way, but 
less astonished than her friend and she herself would 
have expected. “ You ! That is the reason you have 
been so good to me.” 


162 


ARIADNE. 


“ You blame me very much ? ” said Olga, while she 
pressed her hand. 

“ No,” replied Ariadne, slowly. “ No ; you have 
shown true friendship for me ; and you did not expel 
me.” 

‘‘ No, indeed, no ! ” cried Olga, seating herself on 
the bed. “ No, it was that horrible Grabinof who in- 
vented all ; and the superior was no better, for she 
knew very well it was I ! ” 

Then the princess related to her humble friend the 
scenes which had occurred after her departure ; it 
ended in both of them laughing over the tricks they 
used to play their teachers. The reminiscences of 
childhood, even of our saddest days, often seem to 
us ludicrous. 

Notwithstanding the gravity of Olga’s confession, 
and the sorrow the confession excited in Ariadne’s 
heart, when the princess came in she found them both 
laughing heartily. 

“ You have fever, Olga,” said she to her daughter. 
“ Is it well to agitate yourself ? ” 

She aiTanged the covering and pillow, and then 
left when everything was as quiet as a sick-room 
should be. Olga was, indeed, suffering, and passed a 
sleepless night, as Ariadne also did ; but she was 
dwelling upon the bitterness of her past life, whereas 


ARIADNE, 


163 


Olga, whose heart was lightened by her confession, 
saw the future full of ominous clouds. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Constantin Ladof, boiling over with rage, went 
toward the barracks of Batourof’s regiment ; but he 
suddenly remembered they would probably be at 
table, so he stepped into the Vauxhall restaurant. 

“What will monsieur have?” said the officious 
waiter, for there were no other customers. 

“ Whatever you have good,” replied Ladof, indif- 
ferently. 

A most excellent dinner was served up, which he 
ate, in order to distract his thoughts. His distraction 
must have been strong upon him, for when he read 
the bill he started. 

“ What ! Have I eaten all that ? ” said he to the 
astonished waiter. 

“ Yes, monsieur. You remember the duck with 
green peas, the — ” 

“Yes, yes,” murmured Ladof. “I was thinking 
of other things.” 

He paid, and went out, thinking how much one 
can eat when the most opposite feelings are struggling 
in the heart. 


164 


ARIADNE. 


After having taken a cup of coffee and smoked a 
cigar, Ladof went to the barracks. Batourof had just 
come in, and was changing his dress for the evening. 
Constantin went to his room. 

‘‘ Hallo ! Good-morning ! ” cried the young officer, 
on seeing his former friend walk in ; “ it is very good 
of you to come and see me.” 

‘‘ I did not come to see you,” replied Ladof (the 
cordial meeting had embarrassed him a little) ; ‘‘ that 
is — ” 

Batourof hurst out laughing. 

“If you have not come to see me,” said he, “I 
must be dre.aming. Take a cigar while I finish my 
toilet. There are some very good ones in the box. 
Those on top are for intruders ; hut you are an 
old friend. Take a dry one ; those on top are 
moist.” 

Constantin extended his hand mechanically toward 
the table ; hut he remembered he did not come here 
to smoke Batourof’s cigars. 

“ I wish to demand an explanation from you,” said 
he, in a severe tone. 

“ An explanation ! Ten explanations, my dear fel- 
low, or as many as you like. Pass me that brush near 
your left hand. That beast of a servant of mine has 
not the vaguest idea of his duties.” 


ARIADNE, 


165 


Constantin took the brush and handed it to his 
friend, who began to brush his uniform energet- 
ically. 

“Well, what do you wish me to explain to you ? ” 
said he, continuing his occupation. 

“Your conduct is unbecoming, and I have come to 
demand the reason of it ! ” 

Constantin finished the phrase with an inward 
groan. He did not imagine that it was so difficult to 
provoke a young fop. 

“ Eh ? ” said Batourof, who stood with the brush 
in the air, the uniform suspended in his left hand, his 
eyes wide open, mouth stretched — in fact, if Ladof 
had looked at him, he would have burst out laughing ; 
but he was looking elsewhere. 

“ Do you hear ? ” continued Princess Olga’s cham- 
pion. “ I have come to demand the reason of your 
conduct.” 

“ What conduct ? What reason ? My word of hon- 
or, Ladof, you have lost your senses ! ” 

Batourof’s arms fell, and his uniform, too ; but he 
picked it up, put it on, and seated himself in front of 
Constantin, with a very serious expression. 

“ Have you come to provoke me to a duel ? and 
why, if you please ? Have I trodden upon your dog’s 
paw, or cracked my whip over your horse, or — ? ” 


166 


ARIADNE. 


“ Cease joking,” said Ladof, in a peevish tone. 
“ You persist in cowardly — ” 

“ What ? ” said the young officer, rising. 

“ Cowardly,” repeated Ladof, “ insulting by your 
bantering a young girl worthy of every respect. This 
conduct is not becoming a man of honor.” 

“ I insult a young girl ? — I ? ” said Batourof, rub- 
bing his eyes. ‘‘But I dream, I dream, or you 
are a fool, Ladof ! I have never insulted a young 
girl ! ” 

“ It is useless to deny it ; you only aggravate your 
offense,” replied Constantin. “ I seek to marry the 
girl whom you daily insult.” 

“ Name the young girl. If I have ever lacked re- 
spect for any one, at least for any one you want to 
marry — I confess I am not always respectful — ^but it 
is not in a society where you would look for a 
wife — ” 

“ Stop your raillery. The girl who sends me — ” 

“ She sends you ! Well, that finishes it. Can I at 
least know her name ? ” 

“ This sham is useless,” said Constantin, with firm- 
ness. “ When can I send you my seconds ? ” 

Batourof looked at his friend, made some playful 
gesture, and sat down to his desk. 

“ Immediately, if you like,” said he, in a boorish 


ARIADNE. 


167 


tone. “ If I must fight a fool, I want to do it as soon 
as possible ! ” 

Ladof got up, bowed solemnly to his friend, and 
went out with a measured step. 

He had some trouble to find seconds — not that it 
was difficult in itself, but everybody was at the music- 
hall, or on the promenade ; so he went where he 
thought he could find some one to serve him. 

It was in the Yauxhall, between one of Strauss’s 
waltzes and the overture of the Barbiere,” that he 
found one second ; the other he procured a half hour 
later, while they were playing a potpourriy very much 
in fashion then, called Le Tour de I’Europe.” France 
was ostentatiously represented by “ Malbrough s’en va- 
t-en guerre,” and it was during this warlike accom- 
paniment that Ladof explained his quarrel to a young 
sub-lieutenant, who had just been promoted in the 
corps to an ensigncy. 

The seconds met at Batourof’s house, who was fum- 
ing with anger the moment Ladof’s name was men- 
tioned. 

“ The fool ! he made me miss a so^V^e,” cried 
Batourof — “ a superb party ; and I had an appoint- 
ment — ” 

He bit his lips, and listened more composedly to 
the young men’s orders. He had not yet found any 


168 


ARIADNE. 


seconds ; but, as time passed, he met some friends in 
the barracks who were willing to act for him. 

The place was selected ; it was the moat of a 
small fort behind Pavlovsk ; the other arrangements 
were : arms, pistols ; distance,- twenty - five paces ; 
time, four o’clock in the morning, for at five o’clock 
day would be too far advanced. 

Thereupon they separated, and the two belliger- 
ents passed a wretched night. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

The next day, at the hour appointed, just at the 
break of day, before the birds were up, six conspira- 
tors, covered with long cloaks, went toward the meet- 
ing-place in two groups of three. The grass was 
damp, which filled the air with a delicious perfume, 
and the combatants crushed mercilessly under their 
feet the lovely network of dew-drops sparkling upon 
the herbage in the month of August. But they were 
thinking of other things than gray skies and rosy 
tints in the east. 

The distance was measured, and Batourof took 
the weapon offered him with a resigned air. 

One moment, gentlemen,” said the oldest second. 


ARIADNE. 


169 


“before committing an irreparable deed, is not an ex- 
planation possible between you ? ” 

Batourof shrugged his shoulders ; and, pointing 
to Ladof with the end of his pistol : 

“ Ask him,” said he, “ if he can tell why he wants 
to fight.” 

The second turned toward Ladof, and received for 
an answer : 

“ Any arrangement between us is impossible.” 

The two adversaries took their places respectively, 
and profound silence reigned while waiting for the 
signal. 

Batourof munched his mustache, and looked over 
Ladof’s head. His thoughts could be interpreted in 
these words : 

“ Fool ! why do you want me to break an arm or 
a leg for you ? You place yourself before me with- 
out knowing the danger you run. I am a good shot, 
and you, imbecile ! if you only knew it, I could make 
you pass six weeks in your bed, to give you time to 
reflect ! But why should I do you any harm ? You 
are evidently driven to this by some one else, and are 
not responsible for your foolhardiness ! ” 

At the same time Constantin thought : 

“Poor Batourof! he is a good fellow, after all, 
and I have known him for fourteen years. When I first 
8 


170 


ARIADNE. 


met him at my aunt’s at a Christmas-tree party, I 
wore velvet pants, trimmed in gold braid, and a red 
silk shirt. Heavens ! what a long time ago ! I can- 
not kill an old friend who has always been good to 
me ! You wished it, cruel Olga ; I will die for you 
if Fate so ordains ! ” 

“ One, two, three ! ” said the second, clapping his 
hands. 

The two reports went off, the smoke ascended 
slowly in the damp air, and from both sides came the 
cry: 

“ He fired in the air ! ” 

“ He fired in the air ! ” repeated Constantin and 
Batourof, who bounded over the distance which sepa- 
rated them, and fell into each other’s arms, saying, 
“ My dear friend ! ” 

This effusion finished, the seconds came forward, 
and there was great shaking of hands ; honor having 
been satisfied, the next thing was to have breakfast at 
the Restaurant Chalet ; then the seconds completed 
their night’s rest by taking a nap, while the reconciled 
adversaries, more intimate than ever, walked arm-and- 
arm around the park, the gates of which were opened 
at sunrise. 

“ Come,” said Batourof, “ now that all is over, tell 
me why you were in such a rage last evening, for 


ARIADNE. 


171 


without your assistance I shall never know why we 
tried to kill each other.” 

“ Oh, my friend ! ” cried Ladof, “ I am madly in 
love.” 

Batourof lifted up his hands as if everything was 
now explained, then pressed Constantin’s arm under 
his own. 

“ Tell me about it,” said he, in the commanding 
way peculiar to a soldier. 

“Well, you see,” replied Constantin, “I am in 
love with a star ; she is infinitely richer than I am, of 
a family — ” 

“ It is not a grand-duchess ? ” interrupted the im- 
patient Batourof. 

“No, no !” 

“Well, then, you can marry her! a Ladof can 
marry anybody.” 

“ Her mother is so proud .... and, my friend, 
after what has passed, I hate to tell you, but you have 
affronted her ! I know she was imprudent, but — ” 

“ But who, then ? ” cried Batourof, planting him- 
self in the middle of the walk ; “ may I at least know 
whom I have affronted ? ” 

“ Olga Orline ! ” murmured Ladof, a little embar- 
rassed, and more vexed than he wished to appear. 

“ Olga Orline ! Ah ! I understand,” said Batourof, 


172 


ARIADNE. 


laughing so heartily that he had to sit down on a 
bench near by. ‘‘ I understand your rage, and hers. 
There is nothing in it at all. But first tell me the 
truth — did she send you here to dispatch me to the 
next world ? ” 

Ladof, somewhat confused, replied by nodding his 
head. 

‘‘ The deuce ! It takes a woman for revenge ! 
Well, here is the truth, and I swear it is the truth. 
There is little amusement at the noble institute pre- 
sided over by my aunt. On her birthday, in the 
month of July, I went there to spend the evening. 
After the usual courtesies, my venerable aunt, who, 
between you and me, is a fraud, had invited some of 
her prettiest boarders to pour out tea, and offer a con- 
trast to the ugly old teachers. The young ladies were 
talking with us, and complained of being hungry ; just 
for a joke, I proposed bringing them something to 
eat — the Mirsky were of the party — the beautiful 
princess, with her roguish eyes, which you know, 
dared me to do it. I swore I would swallow my aunt 
if she dared prevent us ; an appointment was made, a 
bet taken, and we gained the bet, for we were on the 
spot with the eatables. Your beloved is a little minx 
— she has a fine appetite ! ” 

‘‘Batourof exclaimed Constantin. 


ARIADNE. 


173 


His friend smiled, and went on : 

‘‘Well ! if it annoys you, I will tell you she eats 
nothing, she is a sylph ; but the basket was always 
with her. Understand, now, this was only fun, which 
lasted as long as the roses last, a few weeks, until my 
formidable aunt heard of it, and that was the end of 
my little frolic. She put us out of the house.” 

Constantin looked thoughtful. 

Batourof began again : 

“ What does your pretty princess want ? Shall I 
cease smirking at her ? Nothing easier ! If I had 
known it annoyed her I would not have ventured so 
far. I will make my excuses to her in your presence 
if you desire it. Will that do ? ” 

“Yes,” said Ladof, quite satisfied ; “it will be the 
best thing to do.” 

“ Well ! that is understood ; when you wish, you 
will find me ready ; and now, before we do justice to 
our breakfast, I think it would be well to sleep a 
couple of hours.” 

The friends separated, shaking hands more heartily 
than ever. 


174 


ARIADNE. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

In the evening of the same day, so heroically com- 
menced, all the fashionable world knew that there had 
been a duel between a civilian and a soldier, in honor 
of a young lady from the institute. How had the 
news of the duel been made public ? The oft-repeated 
toasts at the breakfast-table might explain it. 

“ To the health of my aunt’s institute ! ” was the 
most frequently proposed by Batourof. Except for 
that, the affair would still have been wrapped in mys- 
tery. 

When Ladof, somewhat agitated — (gossip might 
have accused him of drinking too much, but it was 
simply the thought of the reception Olga would give 
him, which upset the young man) — ^when Ladof came 
to pay his respects to the Princess Orline, he found 
her reclining on her long chair as usual ; when she 
saw him she shook her finger at him. 

Come here, you bad fellow,” said she, smiling ; 
“ what is this you have been doing ? Cracking the 
heads of our young hussars in honor of the ladies ? 
What a Don Quixote ! ” 

Olga, very pale, sitting a short distance behind 
her mother, glanced at Constantin with a look full of 


ARIADNE. 


175 


thankfulness, and perhaps something more. The poor 
fellow lost his self-consciousness. 

“Heavens ! princess,” stammered he, “what folly 
have you heard of ? ” 

“Probably just what you have committed,” re- 
plied the princess, with a smile which belied the se- 
verity of her words. “How confess, true knight, 
what has happened ? ” 

“I really do not know,” said Constantin, confus- 
edly ; but the princess looked as if she commanded an 
answer ; so he tried to find a pretext. 

“ I heard it said among young men,” replied he, 
“that young ladies from the institute were badly 
brought up. I would not permit such an accusation, 
which seemed to me unjust to several families that — 
where I have the honor of being received — ” 

“ Especially mine,” interrupted the princess, with 
an approving nod of the head, looking very serious. 

At this moment Aidadne approached nearer, and 
she was surprised at Ladof’s cowed expression, for he 
looked like a hound in expectation of a whipping. 

“ Yours, certainly, princess ; and also — ” 

“ Thus you have compromised a whole institute,” 
added* the princess, gayly. “ Which of the two is 
dead ? ” added she, in a calm voice that was too much 
for Constantin. 


176 


ARIADNE. 


“Neither, princess, as you see.” 

The princess burst out into such hearty laughter 
that her daughter could not resist the contagion, and 
had to hide her beautiful face in her handkerchief. 

“ You were beaten, monsieur ? ” Ariadne asked La- 
dof, with a little trembling in her voice. 

Happy that some one had come to the rescue, when 
Olga, the ungrateful, seemed to have so cruelly aban- 
doned him, Constantin turned toward the young girl, 
with thankfulness : “ A trifle, mademoiselle.” And 
he felt glad to have afforded amusement to the princess 
and Mile. Olga. 

The ladies had quite recovered their seriousness 
when the princess extended her hand to Constantin, 
which he kissed, but not with very good grace. 

“ Come, young ladies,” said the Princess Orline, 
“ give your little hands to M. Ladof to kiss ; it is the 
least you can do for him after what he has done for 
you. But I would not advise him to commit himself 
again ; if he does, I shall have to show him the door.” 

With an impulsive, thoughtless manner, Ariadne 
gave her hand to the young man, who pressed it re- 
spectfully to his lips. She turned pale and withdrew 
her hand. This cold kiss was not what she expected ; 
but she was so ignorant of love that she reproached 
herself immediately for a feeling of injustice toward 
a man who had risked his life for her. 


ARIADNE. 


177 


Was it not for her? Probably Ladof bad beard 
some disrespectful remark, sucb as Fremof might make, 
and be bad avenged it. What better proof of esteem 
and love ? That be did not speak of it was doubtless 
because there bad not been a propitious moment. Was 
be not the best judge of that ? Ariadne consoled her- 
self with this thought, but did not experience the peace 
of mind which she bad bad before. 

Olga did not stand upon so much ceremony. She 
gave her band carelessly to Constantin, who was re- 
warded for bis trouble by a sbgbt pressure. 

At the usual time for visits, the young people, ac- 
cording to custom, went down to the garden. Olga, 
upon the pretext of her slight indisposition, begged 
Ariadne to fetch her a shawl, and the moment her 
friend was out of sight, the designing young girl ran 
rapidly down a path which wound around behind a 
clump ot trees, and did not stop until she got out of 
sight of the balcony. 

‘‘Well?” said she, quite out of breath. 

“Well, mademoiselle, he ought to be there behind 
the hedge. I told him to be there at five o’clock.” 

They took the lane which led to the road, and, sure 
enough, they saw Batourof’s back, as he was walking 
up and down the palisade to kill time. 

“ Ho ! ” exclaimed Constantin, with caution. 


178 


ARIABNK 


Batourof turned, and came rapidly toward them. 

“ Princess,” said he to Olga, bowing profoundly, 
but still on the other side of the hedge, “ I am in de- 
spair to think I have merited your displeasure. Will 
you forgive the impertinence of a bad boy, and believe 
that I have never ceased to have the greatest respect 
for you ? ” 

Olga replied by a gesture full of nobleness, which 
struck Batourof. He could not, however, suppress a 
smile, and added : 

“ You must admit, after all, princess, it was very 
droll.” 

Olga smiled in reply. 

“We do not always think what we do,” said she, in 
a serious manner ; “ and afterward we have to repent. 
We sought to be amused, and we were very, very 
reprehensible.” 

They heard Ariadne’s voice ; she was calling Olga 
in the garden. Batourof did not understand, but Con- 
stantin, who was better informed, took it all in. While 
Olga was walking toward the parterre, he said to her, 
holding her hand, which she did not refuse : 

“What? Mile. Ranine — ?” 

“Yes,” replied Olga. “She bore her misfortune 
with wonderful courage, and, more than that, she for- 
gave me the wrong I did her.” 


ARIADNE. 


179 


You have told her, then ? ” said Constantin, car- 
ried away with admiration. ‘‘ How generous you are, 
princess ! Who could love you enough ? ” 

Ladof, like a devoted lover, raised his idol one step 
higher on its pedestal ; hut he had still great sympathy 
for Ariadne, at the thought of the wrongs she had 
suffered. 

Ladof had one of those susceptible hearts which 
love easily and tenderly. His natural and expansive 
affection continued to deceive Ariadne ; while Olga 
was charmed with his amiability, so true, and yet so 
weak, that she was sure of ruling him with a gesture 
or a glance. 

Ariadne sought a master in the man she loved. 
Her dream of happiness was to kneel at her husband’s 
feet and burn before him her heart’s essence, like a 
perfume on the altar. Such was not Olga’s dream ; 
but every one has a different idea of happiness. 

An increased familiarity became apparent among 
the three friends. A number of young men floated 
around the Princess Orline and her charming daugh- 
ter ; Ladof’s assiduity, disguised under his attentions 
to Ariadne, was no longer remarked. 

Olga did not conceal from Ladof her affection for 
him ; but she knew her mother, and felt that this 
marriage would be strongly opposed by her. Without 


180 


ARIADNE. 


being ambitious, the princess hoped to make a more 
brilliant match for her daughter ; and this Ladof was 
continually repeating to his fiancee, who would inva- 
riably reply : 

“ But what is that to you, since I love you ? It is 
not my mother whom you marry, it is 1 1 ” 

However, it was understood that they would wait 
a more favorable time to speak to the princess on the 
subject. If the reader would like to know what Olga 
meant by a more “ favorable time,” we should have 
to admit that ^er ideas on the subject were very vague. 
Perhaps she meant when another suitor asked her 
hand ; that certainly would not be a favorable moment. 
But that was her affair, not ours. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

Some days after the duel, a duel which became 
legendary with the hussars, on account of the charm- 
ing manner in which everybody behaved, Morini 
arrived at the princess’s house by an early train, to 
the very great surprise of all the household — ^for it 
was most unusual to receive such an early visit. 

Without heeding the remonstrances of the ser- 


ARIADNE. 


181 


vants, Morini compelled a bewildered chambermaid 
to show him to Ariadne’s apartment. Ariadne, star- 
tled from her sleep, jumped up, and bolted the door 
in her great astonishment. 

“Ah ! ” said the professor, when he heard the bolt 
click, and found he was shut out. “Are you not 
ready? Very well; I’ll wait.” 

He sat down on a wooden box, without abandoning 
his hope of seeing Ariadne at once ; and very soon 
she appeared. 

Before she had time to speak, he took her by the 
arm and led her toward the drawing-room. 

“ You will make your dehut in eight days,” said 
he, continuing his train of thought, “ and in the role 
of Fides. Boulkof is sick, and there is no one else 
for the opening, unless — ” 

He would have continued indefinitely, if Ariadne 
had not seized his arm for fear of falling. 

“ What is the matter with you ? Ah ! yes ; I 
woke you up suddenly ! These young girls — a Yes or 
a Ho will upset them ! ” 

“It is not that,” said Ariadne, sitting down on 
the first seat she could find. “ Will you kindly repeat 
what you said ? I did not understand it.” 

“ The theatre has nothing ready,” commenced the 
professor. 


182 


ARIADNE. 


“ No ! no ! You said that I should make my 
dehuV'‘ 

“ Zounds ! If it had not been for that, do you 
think I would have come so early ? ” 

Ariadne drew a long sigh, and lay extended on the 
sofa, with her eyes closed, so pale that the professor 
began to be frightened ; and he commenced rubbing 
her hands to restore her. 

‘‘I am not ill, my dear professor,” said she, 
opening her eyes ; “but you announced the news 
so suddenly to me, that I felt the earth was go- 
ing from under my feet. It is the dream of my 
life ! ” 

“ And mine, too ! ” exclaimed Morini, striding 
across the room, having no mercy on the chairs and 
stools which he kicked from side to side. “ A pupil I 
have trained with all the care and love of a father ! 
But you will be a success ! ” 

“I don’t know the said Ariadne, clasping 

her hands. 

“ That’s nothing ; you have sacred fire, and you 
know how to sing. You can learn a role in three 
days.” 

“ But I never set my foot on the stage ! ” continued 
the young girl, terrified. 

“ Dreadful thing ! ” replied the Italian, shrugging 


ARIADNE. 


183 


his shoulders. Everybody knows it is nothing hut 
boards ! You will rehearse this afternoon ! ” 

“ Abeady ? ” said Ariadne, who thought she was 
dreaming. 

“ If you are to play a week from to-day, you must 
commence immediately. Come ! pack your things.” 

Ariadne had great trouble to obtain the professor’s 
consent to wait until the princess got up. He returned 
to St. Petersburg to announce that she had accepted 
the rdle he had proposed to her ; and she was left 
alone to dream of the future before her. 

It was an unheard-of dream. After resigning her- 
self to eighteen months’ obscurity, to be called before 
the public in such an unexpected manner, and under 
such favorable auspices ! — ^before a public that would 
bear with her youth and inexperience — a public dis- 
posed to accept everything from her, because she so 
willingly took the place of another cantatrice. Under 
such circumstances, her amiability alone would have 
served her instead of talent. 

She thought of all this, and gradually her possible 
incompetence assumed a sort of golden halo ; she saw 
all the splendors of the “ Prophete ” defile before her ; 
the shining masses of cuirasses, and flags, and gorge- 
ous decorations glistened before her ; the din of the 
choruses and orchestra gave her vertigo. Suddenly 


184 


ARIADNE, 


she was up, her eyes lost in vacancy, where she alone 
could see a warrior clothed in white, who turned his 
eyes away from her, and repulsed her. 

No ! this is not my son ! ” 

A cry of despair, disdain, and anger in one unique 
expression escaped her lips. Ariadne was lost in her 
rdle! 

Some hours later, overpowered with Olga’s good 
wishes — who was perhaps a little jealous of the happi- 
ness in store for her friend — to appear on the stage, be 
applauded, loaded with honors — Ariadne left Pavlovsk, 
to make her dbhut at St. Petersburg, where she would 
occupy the princess’s palace until her future was 
decided. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Dueing rehearsals, Ariadne saw nothing that hap- 
pened around her. Solely occupied in singing well, 
and in keeping time with the orchestra, she did not 
worry herself about the strangers of the place. The 
vast stage, with ropes hanging down on all sides, and 
enormous pieces of painted wood, trap-doors, and 
wings, was not what she expected. The actors played 
in their ordinary costumes ; the illusion was dis- 


ARIADNE. 


185 


pelled ; and the rehearsal, so new to the young canta- 
trice, was work indeed, hut not art — at least not art as 
she had seen it in her dreams. 

During the week Ariadne spoke to no one in the 
theatre except on what appertained to the rehearsal ; 
she frequently met persons in the side scenes, who 
gave her rather annihilating glances, hut they passed 
out of her mind like shadows on the wall, leaving no 
impression whatever. Morini, who always accom- 
panied her, would often take her aside to make cor- 
rections, or give advice ; the debutante^ in short, saw 
nothing in the theatre during those few days. 

“But,” said she, on the eve of the representation, 
“ I shall never he ahle to sing unless I see the house 
lighted up. The great luminous gulf before me would 
frighten me if I do not get accustomed to it.” 

“ That is true,” said the professor, who went im- 
mediately to the manager with Ariadne’s sugges- 
tion. 

A few moments after, as she came on the stage, the 
young girl found the chandeliers lighted ; hut the 
house appeared to her cold and empty, surrounded hy 
draperies like shrouds. She drew hack, and missed 
her entree, A murmur of disapprobation came from 
the choristers, the machinists, from all who usually at- 
tend rehearsals. 


186 


ARIADNE. 


“ This happens to everybody at first ! ” exclaimed 
Morini, rolling his terrible eyes from right to left. 

“ Silence ! ” said the manager. 

Ariadne felt as if the whole public had slapped her 
in the face. With her over-sensitiveness, it seemed to 
her that all was lost ; and she sang with a dejection 
that was a death-blow to the old professor’s hopes. 

The rehearsal over, he took her to the princess’s 
palace, and there gave her a long lecture. But for the 
first time Ariadne was intractable. 

“ Listen, my dear professor,” said she ; “ if you 
wish me to sing to-morrow, leave me alone to-day. 
My ears tingle, and I no longer hear what you are 
saying.” 

“ You are right,” exclaimed Morini, and I am a 
brute. Sleep well, little one, get up late, eat little to- 
morrow, and, above all, fear nothing. All the fools 
who have annoyed you to-day will be at your feet to- 
morrow — and I the first.” 

He went away quickly, and left Ariadne alone with 
her thoughts. 

She remained a moment with her head in her hands, 
then an idea struck her ; she went to the tomb of her 
benefactress. It was late ; the days are short at the 
beginning of September. When she arrived night 
was falling ; she had some trouble in persuading the 


ARIADNE. 


187 


guard to admit her ; but a bribe did away with his 
scruples, and the orphan wandered to the cross she 
had erected to her second mother. 

The trees were already losing their leaves, the 
autumn tints enriched the foliage, and the deep warm 
coloring seemed to retain a little of the setting sun’s 
brilliancy. Ariadne distinguished in the darkness the 
white stone cross, and knelt before it on the damp 
grass ; she did not bring any flowers ; her only offer- 
ing was a prayer, as pure and innocent as that of a 
little child. 

When Ariadne returned to the city, the lamps were 
lighted, and the place looked as lively as if the fash- 
ionable world had returned from the country. Italian 
opera was played that night, and the carriages were 
loaded with amateurs bent upon losing nothing dur- 
ing the season. The Russian opera-house, just op- 
posite, looked vast and deserted. 

“ To-morrow,” said Ariadne to herself, “ the car- 
riages will be taking everybody to hear me. What if 
I should sing badly ? ” 

She went home, and, following Morini’s advice, re- 
tired early. She thought that she would fail, and was 
resigned. 

“ I have no chance ! ” said she. “ Why should I 
succeed this time ? ” 


188 


ARIADNE. 


The next day passed like lightning. The princess 
and Olga had come in to dinner, so as not to miss the 
rising of the curtain. 

Olga was not overjoyed, but she embraced her 
friend continually, predicting for her the most astound- 
ing success. 

She wanted to accompany her to her dressing- 
room ; but the princess positively forbade her doing 
so. 

The Prophdte ” commenced ; Ariadne was busy 
with her toilet, as she was not on the stage in the 
first scene ; they called her, she started to go hastily, 
still embarrassed with her costume, as she had not had 
time to accustom herself to it. 

“ Go now ! ” said the manager ; ‘‘ time’s up.” The 
actress who was playing Bertha^ perhaps for the thir- 
tieth time, took her by the hand and actually dragged 
her on the stage. Ariadne was dumfounded when 
she saw the house brilliantly illuminated, filled with 
people, and every eye fixed upon her ; she trembled 
so that Bertha whispered to her : 

“ Look on the stage ; if you don’t, you will have 
vertigo, and fall.” 

She followed her advice, and had time to recover 
herself during BerthcCs solo. The moment she sang 
the first note, she experienced a singular impression, 


ARIADNE. 


189 


as if her voice did not belong to her ; but, with all 
the strange surroundings, she went on bravely. 

The attention of the public was fixed on her. Her 
statuesque beauty and noble bearing made her a strong 
contrast to the little, stout cantatrice whose rdle she 
had taken, for her tall, slender figure did not entirely 
disappear under a matron’s costume, and, from the 
first, her beauty assured her success. 

“Well,” said her teacher, when she came be- 
hind the scenes, “it is all over; you are no longer 
afraid?” 

“ Ho,” replied Ariadne ; “ but is this opera ? ” 

“And what would you have it?” asked the aston- 
ished Italian. 

“ I don’t know. . . . It always seemed to me some- 
thing very different.” 

Ho one spoke to her except the manager, who said 
something encouraging ; they waited to see what 
would come of the d'ebutante. 

The time was at hand for Ariadne to stand before 
a serious, expectant public. The scenery was sombre 
and simple, and she entered pale, stiff, with a move- 
ment almost mechanical. The first notes of the arioso 
arose faintly from the orchestra. 

Ariadne felt a shudder through her whole frame ; 
something seemed to cry within her soul, which Art 


190 


ARIADNE. 


had just awakened in her. Suddenly becoming calm 
and self-possessed, she put her hand on Jean's shoul- 
der, overwhelmed with grief. 

‘‘ Oy mon fils ! " she said, rather than sang, which 
caused a tremor throughout the house. People looked 
at each other in amazement. From that moment hope 
was at its highest pitch. 

Ariadne no longer saw the audience which had 
frightened her so much. She sang the air with such 
intensity of feeling that it was almost painful. It was 
this that had taught her passion in art, which, until 
now, had been very vague to her. She finished, and 
suddenly she was awakened from her trance by the 
most enthusiastic clapping of hands. People were 
calling for her everywhere, up-stairs and down-stairs, 
crying out, “ Bravo ! bravo ! Mellini ! ” 

You must bow to them,” said the tenor. ‘‘ It is 
you whom they applaud.” 

Ariadne, scarcely recovered from her dream, came 
forward and bowed. 

“ Encore ! ” cried they from all parts. 

The leader of the orchestra raised his bdtony and 
made a sign to the cantatrice. The plaintive tones of 
the orchestra warned her that she must begin, for she 
had not understood. She commenced again. This 
time, sure of herself, sure of the audience, she dared 


ARIADNE. 


191 


forget everything and be herself, and the house re- 
sounded with notes never heard before in such per- 
fection. 

There was the greatest excitement ; the orchestra 
applauded by knocking on their desks. Six times 
Ariadne was recalled. The play was interrupted, the 
bravos were frantic — in fact, the public offered her the 
wildest expressions of their delight. Never had a 
hutante received such an ovation. 

When she came behind the scenes, all there was 
changed ; the artists, choristers, machinists — all the 
employes of the theatre — came to applaud her. 

“ You are more than cantatrice,” said Morini, em- 
bracing his pupil, who trembled with emotion. “ Don’t 
believe a word they are telling you ; they will make 
you believe it, and you will become an ass instead of 
a nightingale.” 

Ariadne ran no risk of being changed into an ass ; 
at least, the praises from her comrades could not ac- 
complish that miracle. She mentally compared the 
coldness of the night before to the protestations of 
the moment, and pitied the weakness and baseness of 
human nature. 

“ It is like the first act of the ‘ Huguenots,’ ” said 
she to her teacher ; “ the moment they see some one 
in favor, they declare their devotion. How is it that 


192 


ARIADNE. 


playing comedy before the public does not disgust 
them with playing it among themselves ? ” 

‘‘You are a little philosopher,” replied the en- 
chanted Morini. “ Rest yourself now, so as to keep 
up your success ; the hardest is yet to come.” 

Ariadne was under such extraordinary excitement 
that nothing more frightened her. She had taken in- 
stant possession of her role and the public. She acted 
and sang the scene of the “ curse ” with such poetic 
grandeur that connoisseurs said they had heard noth- 
ing like it since Madame Viardot. The enthusiasts 
had made, during the entr'acte, an enormous bouquet, 
with the date written in white roses. At last the cur- 
tain fell upon such a tumult of applause that even the 
walls of the Italian opera, more accustomed to such 
brilliant triumphs, might have been envious. 

Olga was waiting for her friend, with great impa- 
tience, in her mother’s carriage, before the artists’ en- 
trance. Numbers of the curious had gone out before 
the end of the opera to see the debutante get into her 
carriage. She came at last, with a white woolen shawl 
covering her beautiful blond hair, pale still with emo- 
tion ; but when she saw Olga at the door she smiled. 

“ Mellini ! ” cried about fifty of the enraptured 
dilettanti. “ Bravo ! bravo ! ” 

The last echo of success conquered Ariadne’s firm- 


ARIADNE. 


193 


ness. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she bowed 
to the admiring crowd. 

‘‘ A flower from your bouquet ! ” cried they, a 
flower for a souvenir 1 ” 

Ariadne pulled out a handful of Parma violets and 
roses and scattered them among the crowd ; the carri- 
age-door was shut, and they drove off quickly, amid 
the people’s thanks for the cantatrice’s generosity. 

‘‘ You are happy ? ” said Olga, throwing her arms 
around her friend, while the princess offered her the 
warmest, sincerest compliments. 

“ I am happy,” replied she, ‘‘ except when I think 
that Madame Sekourof, to whom I owe all this, can 
never enjoy her good work.” 

As she entered the parlor, Ariadne saw Ladof, who 
had come home in advance, having been invited to tea 
after the theatre. The princess, believing an attach- 
ment was growing up between the young cantatriee 
and him,. thought she would encourage the affair, and 
give him an opportunity of seeing her as soon as pos- 
sible. Constantin was indeed very much pleased, and 
complimented Ariadne with an earnestness that might 
have deceived anybody. Olga alone knew it was pure 
friendship and love of music, and therefore was not 
jealous. 

Ariadne, not yet returned to the realities of life, 
9 


194 


AlilABNE. 


permitted tliem to compliment her, as she allowed them 
to pour out the tea, looking very happy, but perfectly 
indifferent. She still saw that great illuminated house, 
those faces turned toward her, with open mouths, ready 
to call out her name, and she shuddered. She was 
happy, yet she was afraid. She was like a child that 
would pass his hand over a lion’s head ; it seemed to 
her that the enormous animal that flattered her to- 
night might become envious one day and devour her. 

‘‘You should be perfectly satisfied,” said Ladof to 
her, as he sat down near her. 

The tender, affectionate nature of this young man, 
yet a child in many things, prompted him to come as 
close as possible to any one who, for the moment, at- 
tracted his fickle heart. 

“ Yes,” replied Ariadne, with her lovely, dreamy 
smile. “ And you/ are you content ? ” 

She had thrown her whole soul into these words. 
She offered to Constantin the crowning success of the 
evening, like the aroma of her bouquet, which was 
near her on the table. 

“ Give me a flower as a souvenir of this evening,” 
said the young man, extending his hand. 

“ The people have had most of the flowers,” said Ari- 
adne. “They asked me for them in the street. I 
would rather give you something else.” 


ARIADNE. 


195 


She unrolled a wide, white ribbon, which tied the 
end of her bouquet ; but just as she was going to offer 
it to Constantin, she remembered that they were not 
alone. 

She took the bread-knife from the table and cut 
the ribbon in two, giving one part to Olga, the other 
to Constantin. 

‘‘ You are my two best friends,” said she. “ I shall 
remember without a token.” 

The two lovers exchanged stolen glances on receiv- 
ing the pieces of ribbon. This look fell on Ariadne’s 
heart like a lump of ice. “ Had she lived until that 
moment in such a dream that she had misconceived 
the truth ? ” 

But Constantin kissed her hand with so much grati- 
tude, and threw so much warmth into the expression 
of his joy, that the young girl believed she was mis- 
taken. However, the wings of her happiness had 
fallen, never to rise again. 

The next morning before mid-day, the remnant of 
her bouquet was fading on the tomb of her benefac- 
tress. Those flowers of success were the only ones 
Ariadne had ever been willing to place there. 

The papers did not fail to notice the dkhutant^s 
success. Two days later a paper, unknown to the en- 
lightened world, published a paid article about Ari- 


196 


ARIADNE. 


adne, in which the poor girl’s history was related in a 
most odious manner. The writer of the article must 
have been pressed for money, for it actually dragged 
Ariadne through the mud. In order that she might 
be sure to see the article, some careful hand had 
marked it with red chalk, and left it in a sealed en- 
velope with the princess’s butler. 

Ariadne read this mass of scurrility, not with in- 
difference, but with an appearance of calmness. Olga, 
who was there, wanted to read it afterward, but the 
young artist took it quietly out of her hands. 

“ What ! ” said Olga, provoked at meeting with 
any resistance, “ don’t you want me to know the com- 
pliments paid you ? ” 

“ They are not compliments,” replied Ariadne, 
“ and that will grieve you.” 

“ What is it, then ? ” asked Olga. 

“It is the other side of the story. If I had no 
enemies, it would be a proof that I had no talent.” 

Ariadne knew how to put on a brave face when 
her honor was touched, but the wound was left bleed- 
ing a long time. Other cutting articles appeared af- 
terward. It was supposed that the actress whose place 
Ariadne had taken wrote them. She had never created 
a sensation in any rdle^ content if she filled them pass- 
ably well ; and she now found how difficult it would 


ARIADNE. 


197 


be, bow impossible, to play in tbe “ Propb^te ” after 
tbe debutante. On that account sbe was determined 
to disparage ber in every way sbe could. 

It was very easy to strike Ariadne a blow. After 
ber second performance, sbe frequently received anon- 
ymous notes and sarcastic remarks from some prac- 
tised band ; even tbe artists wbo bad joined in tbe 
ovation of tbe first evening tried to make themselves 
disagreeable to ber. Sbe discovered that in tbe the- 
atre more than anywhere else one has to battle for ex- 
istence, and that in almost every case tbe good are tbe 
victims of tbe wicked. 

It was a silent persecution. Tbe tenor joked a 
little with ber before giving ber tbe cue, and Ariadne, 
not accustomed to this sort of amusement, felt troubled, 
and played coldly^ Just as sbe was commencing a 
duet, Bertha said to her : 

“ Your rouge is coming off on tbe left ; you look 
like a doU which has been washed.” 

A chorister stepped on ber dress as sbe was going 
to tbe footlights. Sbe found tbe bell of ber room 
stuffed with paper. “ Whom was sbe to accuse ? ” It 
was a sort of persecution in which every one was an 
accomplice, and yet everybody innocent. 

Ariadne could bear it no longer ; sbe went to tbe 
manager and complained. 


198 


ARIADNE. 


“ Can you,” said the manager, “ point out any one 
in particular ? ” 

“No,” said Ariadne; “it is everybody, which is 
nobody.” 

“Well! what do you want me to do?” replied 
the practical man, accustomed to all sorts of com- 
plaints. 

Morini laughed when Ariadne confided her troubles 
to him. 

“ You will have many more,” said he. “ In my 
time I have seen some abominable tricks on the stage. 
A basso told me once of his troubles : while he was 
singing one of the actors was continually pulling the 
visor of his helmet over his mouth so that he could 
not sing. He did this ten times in an evening. Do 
you think he went to the manager in order to get rid 
of him ? No. He would have had no more peace after 
that ! ” 

“ What did he do ? ” 

“ He did nothing ; his tormentor got tired, and 
played upon somebody else. Try the same game, be 
expert yourself in practical jokes upon others. That 
forms character I ” 

Ariadne was little disposed to form her character 
in this way. Always fearing some trick, she became 
uneasy, and played with less effect. At the fourth 


ARIADNE, 


199 


performance, people began to ask if they had not been 
mistaken in the debutante. The opposition paper 
took advantage of the change in public feeling, and 
tried to crush Ariadne. 

The day of the fifth performance Morini came like 
a bombshell into the little parlor where his pupil was 
working. 

“ You made me pass a horrible night ! ” said he, in 
as bad a humor as it was possible to imagine ; “ if you 
sing as badly as you did on Wednesday evening, we 
might as well tear down the play-bills. Confound it ! 
No encore of Mellini ! ” 

“But, my dear teacher,” replied Ariadne, with 
tears in her eyes, “ it is not my fault ! I want to do 
well, but I am paralyzed by so many things ! The 
leader of the orchestra no longer waits for my ^ runs,’ 
and it is with the greatest difficulty that I can sing in 
time ! ” 

“Eh?” exclaimed Morini, more furious when he 
felt that Ariadne was right — there had been much trou- 
ble with the leader of the orchestra. “ What the deuce ! 
there are so many ways of pleasing people — ” 

The professor looked down when Ariadne fixed her 
eyes upon him. 

“ He did not mean anything wrong,” continued he, 
in a calmer tone of voice. “ With a few kind words. 


200 


ARIADNE, 


a smile, a trifle, one can easily flatter people. You 
pass by them as if they did not exist.” 

“ Are they anything to me ? ” asked Ariadne, with 
more assurance. 

Morini shrugged his shoulders. 

‘‘^^'ever mind whether they are much or little to 
you,” said he ; “ the one important thing is not to 
make them hate you. You act toward them as if you 
were a Fodor or a Malibran ; but, my dear, they 
think they are just as good as you ! You wound them 
unnecessarily ; this is not the way to make a position 
on the stage.” 

If what I have seen thus far is the theatre,” said 
Ariadne, disgusted, “I prefer returning to my ob- 
scurity, and singing for myself.” 

‘‘ You speak very independently,” exclaimed Mo- 
rini, exasperated ; “ it is in order that you should not 
return to obscurity that I have given you lessons for 
two years and a half ! ” 

That is true,” said Ariadne, bending down her 
head ; “ I am not free, excuse me. I will sing better 
to-night, I promise you.” 

‘‘ Come, my little girl,” said the old Italian, who 
perceived that Ariadne’s pride had misinterpreted his 
words, “ do not get angry ; you do not understand 
me ; I meant that I had placed all my hopes on you, 


ARIADNE. 


201 


that you would be known as my pupil, and your name 
would be connected with your old teacher’s, and that 
they would both be handed down to posterity. You 
cannot blame me for having such a desire, can 
you ? ” 

“My dear teacher,” replied Ariadne, taking the 
professor’s wrinkled hand, “I cannot blame you for 
anything. You are not responsible for my unhappy 
fate, to be born poor and dependent. Situated as I 
am, it would be very ungrateful in me not to be thank- 
ful to those who have tried to ameliorate my condi- 
tion.” 

These words reassured the Italian, who went away 
easier in mind. 

“ Anyway,” said he, at parting, “ this is the last 
time you will sing this season. You will have the 
winter to rest, and next winter you will probably 
make your debut at the Italian opera. For this once 
do your best. I am curious to see how the public 
will receive Boulkof when she takes her place after 
you. Then they will find out your worth ! ” 

He went out ; and Ariadne, left alone, clasped her 
hands over her breast to keep down the sobs swelling 
to her throat. 

“ Ko, I am not free,” said she, bitterly ; “ the poor 
are never free ! ” 


202 


ARIADNE. 


The door opened quietly, and Olga entered with 
precaution. 

Ariadne looked at her, not without a pang. She 
owed to this girl, rich and happy, her daily bread. 
“ Must she always be indebted to somebody ? ” 

Olga came forward with an air of modesty, and 
even humility, which was not common with her ; she 
held in her hand a little portfolio, so richly embellished 
that it looked more like an ornament than a thing for 
use. 

‘‘Your teacher scolded you, did he not?” asked 
she. “ I heard, I even listened ; excuse me, dear Ari- 
adne.” 

The young artist made a careless gesture. What 
difference did it make to her ? Her dependence was 
not a secret. 

“ I scarcely know how to explain what I have to 
say to you,” said Olga ; “ it is very difficult, and your 
pride makes the task harder. We have prepared — my 
mother and I — a little souvenir, to recall to you the 
triumph of your first appearance, and we have put in 
it our portraits.” 

Ariadne extended her hand to receive the object 
presented by her friend, who still retained it with a 
sort of fear. 

“ I hope you will understand me thoroughly, dear 


ARIADNE. 


203 


Ariadne,” said she ; “ you know the extent of the 
debt I owe you, and you know I never hope to be able 
to pay it. That which we offer you here is nothing 
more than the means of relieving you of the burden 
which weighs upon you.” 

She embraced her friend affectionately, put the 
portfolio in her hand, and wished to run away ; Ari- 
adne kept her back with an imperious gesture. 

‘‘ Wait,” said she. 

She opened the portfolio, which really contained the 
portraits of Madame Orline and her daughter, and in 
a pocket she found a package of bank bills, folded in 
an envelope which bore the inscription : 

‘‘ Price of Signor Morini’s lessons.” 

Ariadne’s first impulse was to reject the money ; 
her second, to burst into tears. Olga took her in her 
arms. 

Is it not better,” said she, with a sweetness and 
humility no one but her companion would have sus- 
pected in her, “ is it not a thousand times better to 
feel yourself free from your teacher ? Suppose you 
should be sick, or the stage should displease you, you 
are free then to sing no more, as you said, except for 
yourself and a few friends. Tell me, can you have 
the heart to refuse us ? ” 

^^No,” said Ariadne, looking at her friend with 


204 


ARIADNE. 


eyes full of tears, and face covered with confusion ; 
“ I have no right to refuse. Morini is old, not rich ; 
I owe him a great deal. If, indeed, I should fall sick, 
or if I should die before the debt was paid ! — ” 

“ Please do not speak of those things ! ” exclaimed 
Olga, putting her hand over the young artist’s mouth. 

“ Why not ? Death has no terrors for me ; it 
is only formidable for those who are rich, happy, 
loved—” 

“But you will be loved,” said Olga, with enthusi- 
asm. 

“ Do you think so ? ” said Ariadne, without daring 
to look at her. 

“ I am sure of it,” replied Olga ; “ you are too 
beautiful, too great an artist, not to be loved. Who 
could resist the love you would inspire ? ” 

Olga was sincere. Ariadne appeared to be so much 
mistress of her heart that her friend never supposed 
that Ladof had produced any effect upon it. Besides, 
do those who love ever see love in others ? 

Ariadne did not reply ; Olga’s words harmonized 
too well with the secret desires of her heart. She 
clung to the hope offered her as to a saving plank. 
Stage-life did not please her, her dependence weighed 
heavily on her ; but Constantin, if he loved her, would 
raise her above these miseries ; for she felt that she 


ARIADNE. 


205 


was beautiful, and worthy of being loved. . . . She 
hoped on. 

“ I must leave you,” said Olga, when she saw Ari- 
adne was again quiet and composed. “ You need rest, 
as you sing to-night. Think at least that, if you so 
wish, you can sing to-night for the last time. My 
mother begs me tell you your home is with us, and 
you need think of no other as long as you are happy 
at our fireside.” 

Saying these consoling words she went out, leaving 
Ariadne alone in her meditations. 

“N^o,” thought she, after a little reflection, “I will 
not give the money to my teacher — it would be a want 
of gratitude to him ; there was something besides mere 
interest in the lessons he gave me. But if some mis- 
fortune should happen to me, if I should lose my voice, 
for instance — ” 

She sighed ; her mind, tired of the incessant strug- 
gles with life, seemed to have gloomy forebodings. 

That night she sang better than at her debut , the 
young cantatrice had such power over the public that 
the conspiracy against her dared not breathe ; whoever 
should have tried to withstand her success would have 
been annihilated without pity. 

Crowns, recalls, enthusiastic cries, surpassed the 
ovation of the first evening ; and Ariadne left tlie 


206 


ARIADNE. 


theatre consecrated Star ” by two thousand infatuated 
spectators. 

‘‘Well,” said Morini to her, as he led her off, “are 
you reconciled to the theatre ? ” 

He rubbed his hands together with joy. Ariadne, 
not wanting to throw a damper on his happiness, re- 
plied evasively. When she reached the quiet of her 
own little room, she considered how much self-love, 
infatuation, and deception are attached to a great suc- 
cess, and said to herself, with the wise man, “ All is 
vanity.” 

“ Ah ! my beloved Art,” said she, in the deepest 
dejection, “I loved you better when I sang alone in 
the institute, and when I cried at the sound of my 
own voice without knowing why ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

“You sing no more this winter?” asked the prin- 
cess at breakfast next day. 

“Xot at the theatre, at least, princess,” replied 
Ariadne ; “ I expect to give a concert.” 

“It is not the season for concerts,” interrupted 
Princess Orline ; “ and as nothing keeps you in St. 


ARIADNE, 


207 


Petersburg, will you not accompany us on a little for- 
eign tour ? ” 

Olga opened her eyes wide, and looked at her 
mother, more surprised than enchanted. 

This is a surprise I have prepared for my daugh- 
ter,” replied Princess Orline ; “ she has been teasing 
me a long time to make a trip. The rainy season here 
is villainous, and the month of October in France is 
lovely. We could pass at least six weeks there and 
return for the sleighing.” 

“ Six weeks, mamma ! ” exclaimed Olga. 

‘‘ Well ! are you satisfied ? ” 

“ Oh ! yes, thank you, mamma,” said the young 
deceiver, who ran and embraced her mother. 

One hour later, the maid posted a little note which 
read thus : 

“Mamma wishes to travel, my dear Constantin. 
Ask leave of absence at the embassy ; come and tell 
us that your health requires a trip. You must join us. 
We can doubtless find, during our journey, some op- 
portunity to talk over our schemes.” 

The message reached its destination at the right 
time, and the next evening Ladof informed the prin- 
cess of his traveling projects. 

. “ Ah ! ” said the astonished princess ; “we, also, are 

going away.” 


208 


ARIADNE. 


‘‘ Will you allow me to accompany you, at least as 
long as my presence is agreeable ? ” 

The princess frowned and looked at Ariadne. She, 
with her cheeks crimson, looked up at Constantin, 
surprised and excited. Princess Orline smiled ; if 
there had been any connivance, it was for a laudable 
object : but then Ariadne’s look of astonishment was 
so natural. 

“ Who told you of our trip ? ” said the princess, 
suddenly. 

Constantin, somewhat abashed, came very near 
remaining silent ; but he must reply. 

“ Your servants,” said he. I called yesterday 
afternoon without finding you, and I learned that you 
would leave.” 

The princess, fully reassured, could see in it 
nothing more than a proof of Ladof’s love for Ari- 
adne. 

“ I consent,” said she ; “ even if your company 
were not agreeable, the ^ young ladies would make 
you useful in gratifying their whims. But, my dear 
Constantin, you will leave first. I don’t want busy 
tongues to spread the news in St. Petersburg that I 
have carried you off.” 

“ Ah ! princess ! ” said Ladof, very happy, but 
somewhat confused. 


ARIADNE, 


209 


The princess arose, smiling, showing her magnifi- 
cent figure and great beauty still in its prime. Olga 
dared not exchange word or look with Ladof ; he, 
not knowing exactly what to do, approached Ari- 
adne. 

“ And you, mademoiselle, will you permit me to 
inflict my society upon you?” said he, jokingly. 

“ Yes,” replied Ai’iadne, without lifting her eyes. 

Paradise seemed to open before her. 

Eight days later, the three ladies on entering the 
depot at Berlin found Ladof awaiting them. He had 
engaged for them a hotel, a carriage, and all that was 
needed. 

Oh ! this is charming ! ” said the princess, rally- 
ing the young man, though not in an unfriendly man- 
ner. ^‘You do better than a courier ; and we have 
not to scold you to make you understand what we 
want ! I engage you at once ! ” 

‘‘ Most happy ! ” murmured Constantin, trying to 
make a passage-way for her. 

He had received the most delicious smile from 
Olga, and his life was beginning to assume a rose-like 
tint for him. 

At the end of eight days, Ariadne retained but 
few of her illusions ; they left her one by one like the 
leaves when the autumn wind tears them from the 


210 


ARIADNE. 


trees. She tried to shield herself from the increasing 
conviction of her nothingness in the eyes of Constan- 
tin ; she had struggled with energy against evidence; 
then came the reaction, bringing with it sadness and 
bitterness. 

‘‘ It is she whom he loves ! ” she repeated to herself 
every moment in the day. 

But if Ladof came near her, if he took her shawl 
or bag, she thought she discovered some sign of af- 
fection in his civility. Affection for her certainly the 
young man had ; but the reserve he showed to Olga 
was far more eloquent than such meaningless demon- 
strations of politeness. 

Instead of stopping in the capitals, and taking the 
ordinary routes, after several days’ tratfl the princess 
thought it would be a novel idea to reach Paris by 
the coast. She went from Brussels to Ostend, and 
there the sea air had special charms for her. October 
days on the sea-coast have a softness elsewhere un- 
equaled ; though gray and cloudy, except when the 
northeast wind blows, the days are there less au- 
tumnal than in the interior or in cities. 

The downs and cliffs do not lose their verdure so 
early ; although the trees are soon stripped of their 
foliage by equinoctial storms, the grass, short and 
thick, keeps its freshness ; the rocks are the same at 


ARIADNE. 


211 


all seasons, and the sea is as smiling in January as 
in July. 

The princess made easy voyages from the mouth 
of the Somme to the Seine. The various ports, al- 
most deserted except by the regular inhabitants and 
some lovers of salt breezes, scarcely became conscious 
of their distinguished visitors. 

Olga amused herself exceedingly, visiting new 
hotels, taking meals at tahles-d'^hStes, where the notable 
bachelors of the place discussed the events of the 
town ; all this had for her the attraction of novelty. 
She felt as if she was reading a romance, so great was 
her delight. 

Ladof, on the contrary, was far from being at his 
ease. He felt that his attentions must in time be ex- 
plained, and^he thought of what would then happen 
made him shudder. 

Constantin was one of those who are very brave 
before the cannon’s mouth, but cowardly before a 
woman’s temper. He feared being reprimanded by 
the princess, and losing all chance of gaining Olga’s 
hand ; but what alarmed him perhaps more than all 
was his being one day questioned by Ariadne, who 
asked ; “ Why have you trifled with me ? ” 

What Olga had not perceived, frivolous, selfish 
child that she was, Ladof saw, and felt most deeply. 


212 


ARIADNE. 


This was his fate, and he was conscious of it ; his love 
for Olga was of the kind which imposes on one all 
the duties and responsibilities, while the other has all 
the privileges and pleasures ; but, contrary to the com- 
mon order of things, it was Olga who would rule her 
husband, and yet be always adored in spite of her 
faults : not because her husband did not see them, 
but because he loved her just as she was, with all her 
defects. 

There are some beings who must sacrifice them- 
selves, and Ladof was one of them. 

He felt that he had trifled with Ariadne ; his con- 
science reproached him for many little attentions and 
flattering words which he had addressed to the young 
girl, even in the presence of the princess : though in 
acting thus he had obeyed Olga’s orders. 

But if Ariadne should find it out ? ” said he one 
day, trying to resist the beloved influence which sub- 
dued all his powers. 

“ Find out what ? That you have made love to 
her ? Great calamity ! One so clever, so thoughtful, 
would never care for such a simpleton as you ! There 
is nobody in the world but me silly enough to love 
you ! ” 

Thus reproved, with an accompaniment of little 
taps and fascinating smiles, Constantin smothered his 


ARIADNE. 


213 


conscience. But seeing Ariadne growing paler and 
thinner every day, less terrestrial, so to speak, the pangs 
of remorse again stung him. 

Ariadne appeared to shun him, rather than re- 
proach him ; without affectation, she held herself 
aloof, and the princess had often to make her join 
their group. The princess was not satisfied ; the mar- 
riage which she had deigned to favor with her interest 
seemed farther off than ever, and Princess Orline 
wondered what it meant. Her watchful eyes had 
noticed the visible change which had come over Ari- 
adne ; she wanted an explanation, hut the orphan’s 
dependent position in her house made this difficult, 
and she put it off from day to day. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

One evening after their arrival at F ecamp, the trav- 
elers noticed the announcement of a concert of ama- 
teurs the next day for the benefit of the poor. 

‘‘Ariadne ! ” exclaimed Olga, “you ought to sing 
for the unfortunate. It is a long time since we have 
heard you, and I am sure the natives have never im- 
agined such a voice as youi’s.” 


214 


ARIADNE. 


‘‘It will be a kindness, Mademoiselle Ariadne,” 
said Ladof, “ and you will give everybody pleasure.” 

Ariadne was silent ; tbe princess thought that she 
was waiting for her advice. 

“ If it gives you pleasure, my child,” said she, “ I 
will not oppose you.” 

Ariadne wanted to speak, but a flood of tears pre- 
vented her. She quickly wiped away her blinding tears, 
and, trying to appear calm, said with a trembling voice: 

“ I can sing no more.” 

“ What ? ” exclaimed simultaneously the three 
persons present. 

“ I lost my voice fifteen days ago.” 

“ You have lost your voice,” exclaimed Olga, 
“ and said nothing about it to anybody ? ” 

“ What good would it have done to speak of it ? ” 
said Ariadne, with a dejected air ; “ it would not have 
bettered things. When we have nothing pleasant to 
say, it is better to be mute.” 

Silence ensued, for every heart was full of sad 
thoughts. 

“You are suffering, my child?” said the princess, 
gently, deeply moved at seeing the colorless face of 
the young artist. 

“ A little ; but it will pass off — thank you, prin- 
cess.” 


ARIADNE. 


215 


Ariadne made an effort, and smiled, as the prin- 
cess placed her hand on the gu*Ps head. Her smile 
was so full of grief that Princess Orline impressed a 
mother’s kiss on the orphan’s brow. 

‘‘We will go to-morrow to £tretat, as I promised 
you,” said she to her daughter, with a serious air ; 
“ we will then return directly to Paris ; I am tired 
of these peregrinations ; we have so fatigued Mile. 
Ranine that there is nothing left of her.” 

The princess spoke with such severity that her 
daughter felt herself rebuked. Olga went out, and 
dared not even try to speak to Ladof. He felt as if a 
mountain was weighing on his shoulders. 

The two young girls shared the same room. Olga 
that night noticed her companion, and was struck by 
the languor and fatigue she showed in every move- 
ment. 

“ What is the matter with you ? ” said she, with 
anxiety, noticing her friend’s hollow eyes, short breath, 
and burning hands. 

“ Nothing,” said Ariadne, with a smile. 

This smile wore such an expression of suppressed 
grief that it rendered Ariadne more beautiful, more 
interesting than ever. 

“ Something serious must ail you, when you waste 
away as you are doing.” 


216 


ARIADNE. 


“ I shall get well in time.” In another moment 
Ariadne added : “ If I should not recover, do not for- 
get my old teacher ; the price of his lessons is in the 
portfolio in St. Petersburg.” 

But, Ariadne,” said Olga, frightened, “ you are 
not going to die ? ” 

“ I hope not,” said the cantatrice, with a little more 
energy ; “ now I am easier ; good-night ! ” 

She fell back on the pillow, and went to sleep im- 
mediately. 

Very soon her breathing became more regular, her 
hands cooler, and Olga, leaning over her, saw the 
natural expression return to her beautiful face. 

Still she looks sad,” said the young princess to 
herself ; ‘‘ she appeared happier at one time. She is 
perhaps grieved because she has no one to love her, 
while I — I don’t know why I have made with her 
such a mystery about nothing. I might have told her 
all. It may be this want of confidence which pains 
her. She may have thought that I no longer loved 
her. I will tell her all without fail to-morrow.” 

Olga fell asleep on this good resolution. 


ARIADNE. 


217 


CHAPTER XXXL 

The next day was beautiful and clear ; it might 
have been said that the Channel was looking its best 
in honor of the foreign visitors, who were taking their 
last view of it. 

The carriage containing the princess and her little 
family rolled rapidly toward ifitretat ; but those who 
occupied it did not pay much attention to the beauti- 
ful country they were passing through. Each one 
was buried in thought, and the journey was made in 
silence. 

The princess began to question herself whether, 
for several months past, she had not been deceived ; 
and her suspicions rested not upon Ariadne, nor upon 
Ladof, but upon her own daughter. She recalled to 
mind that freak at the institute, and reflected that 
Olga’s temperament urged her toward the perilous ; 
nothing was more plausible than that -'he spoiled child 
should concoct a little scheme in secret which would 
make her mother accept Ladof for a son-in-law. 

But why so much concealment ? The princess had 
loved her husband, not because he was a prince, but 
because in her eyes he was the only being worthy of 
10 


218 


ARIADNE. 


being loved. She would have consented without 
much opposition to the marriage of her daughter with 
almost any gentleman, provided he had the moral 
qualities which command esteem, and the advantages 
which would make it a suitable match. Constantin 
Ladof sufficiently possessed these attractions ; what, 
then, prevented Olga from saying to her mother, “ I 
desire to marry him ? ” 

The princess looked at Ariadne’s pale face, as she 
sat near her, and wondered what sorrow had ravaged 
those regular features ! 

“ If she loved Ladof, why did he not propose ? ” 
The result of her reflections was that these uncertain- 
ties should be set at rest before the day closed. 

The travelers descended the road which leads to the 
village of ^tretat. This beautiful slope, ornamented 
with superb houses now deserted, and terraced gardens 
bordered with late flowers, brought them to the mid- 
dle of the valley. Breakfast was ordered in advance ; 
they sat around the table, but none did justice to the 
meah When the dessert was taken off, the princess 
threw her napkin down with impatience. Olga trem- 
bled. She understood her mother well enough to 
know that a terrible storm was threatening. 

Go and see the cliff, which presents a novel ap- 
pearance,” said the princess, and she added in a low 


ARIADNE. 


219 


tone, pointing to Ariadne, who was standing in the 
doorway : ‘‘ Finish this affair, M. Ladof ; the situa- 
tion is becoming intolerable.” 

The two guilty ones went out with their heads 
bowed. A moment later, the princess saw them de- 
part, and turn to the right to view the opposite cliff 
before examining it in detail. 

She could not repress a mother’s proud smile as 
she looked at her daughter. 

Olga walked in front with her firm step ; her long 
braids, which, while traveling, she had not taken the 
trouble to put up with a comb, fell below her waist. 
Her brisk gait and supple form made a great con- 
trast to Ariadne’s languid air. 

Notwithstanding that Olga was a few months 
older than Ariadne, she appeared like a careless, 
happy bird, while Ariadne bore the impress on both 
face and foimi of one whose life had been saddened. 

‘‘ At last ! ” thought the princess, as she reentered 
the hotel. ^‘When they return, all will be ex- 
plained ! ” 

Constantin, on a sign from Olga, offered his arm 
to Ai-iadne ; she took it, but with all the reserve she 
felt in their present relations. She accepted it to 
avoid a painful and superfluous explanation, which 
her refusal would naturally have provoked ; but as 


220 


ARIADNE. 


soon as they were out of sight she withdrew her arm, 
saying that she preferred walking alone. 

A guide offered his services, which they declined. 
The young people wanted to talk freely; and, besides, 
they had been assured that there was no danger on 
their side of the cliff. 

They climbed up in silence ; and when once at the 
top, far from all eyes and ears, without troubling 
themselves about the landscape, Olga turned her back 
to the sea, and addressed herself to Ariadne : 

“ My dear friend,” said she, taking her hand, “ I 
am very guilty. I have deceived you ; and yet there 
is no one in the world who deserved my confidence 
more than you. You will forgive me, however ; for, 
before speaking to my mother, on the subject, I wish 
to tell you that Constantin and I are engaged.” 

Ariadne gazed at her friend; a slight trembling 
shook her frame, but there was no other sign of emo- 
tion. 

“ When did this happen ? ” said she, with an effort. 

“ Last August.” 

The young artist looked at Ladof, who was gazing 
fixedly at the sea without seeing it. 

“ I hope you will be very happy,” said she, 
sweetly. 

Her lips became white and her cheeks livid. She 


ARIADNE. 


221 


looked around for a support. She saw a rock a few 
steps off, and sat down on it. 

“ I am very tired,” said she. “ I ask your pardon 
for having received with such apparent coldness news 
that — Be assured, both of you, that I wish you 
much happiness from the bottom of my heart.” 

She extended to each of them her hand. Olga 
threw herself impetuously around her friend’s neck, 
and covered her with kisses. Ladof timidly took the 
hand offered him, and pressed it, not daring to kiss it. 
Ariadne lifted it to his lips. 

“ It is the Mellini who compliments you, monsieur,” 
said she, with a faint smile. “ Olga will not be jealous.” 

‘‘Jealous!” exclaimed Olga, “jealous of you! 
Such an idea never came into my head ! Kow are you 
satisfied ? ” 

“ Perfectly,” replied Ariadne. 

The sun shone on the sea ; the grass was green and 
thick ; a slight north wind gently moved the dried 
flowers at their feet. The lovers sat down on the 
ground ; they were almost at the extremity of the 
cliff on the northern coast. The high chalky wall, 
which runs as far as Dieppe, stood out in bold relief 
against the blue sky. All was peace and joy. 

“ I am very happy,” replied Olga. 

Her flanc'e held her hand in his, and the young 


222 


ARIADNE. 


princess’s face expressed the most complete delight : 
she was enjoying life to the full. Ariadne got up and 
stepped nearer the edge of the cliff. 

“ Do not go so near the edge ! ” cried Olga ; “ you 
frighten me. Is the cliff very high ? ” 

“Very high,” replied Ariadne, in a calm voice. 

“ Can you see the ocean ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ And the bottom ? ” 

“ At the bottom is a flag-stone — flat, polished, and 
white ; the waves regularly break against the cliff just 
under us.” 

“ There are no pebbles ? ” 

“Not one.” 

“ That must be pretty. will take a glance my- 
self,” said Olga, trying to get up. 

“ I beg of you not to go there,” said Ladof, hold- 
ing her back. “ You might fall ! ” 

Ariadne turned around. It was the first time she 
had seen any signs of affection between them. She 
glanced at them astonished, then thought that it was 
very natural, and again looked down the gulf. 

“Mile. Ariadne, you make me afraid,” said Ladof ; 
“ come back, I beg of you ! ” 

The young girl gave him a look which Constantin 
remembered all his life. 


ARIADNE. 


223 


“ What difference does it make to you ? ” said Ari- 
adne’s eyes, though not with anger. “ I am nothing 
to you ; it is not I whom you love ! ” 

She retreated a few steps. 

“ Listen, Ariadne,” replied Olga. “We are in a 
very embarrassing position. Mamma has taken it into 
her head, I don’t know why ” — the blush which cov- 
ered her face proved that her conscience was reproach- 
ing her — “ that it was you to whom Constantin was 
paying attention. She wished to see you married.” 

Ladof was made uneasy by these remarks ; and, 
suddenly dropping Olga’s hand, he turned toward 
Ariadne. 

“ I have not acted right toward you, mademoiselle ; 
I feel it, and I am distressed beyond measure. Will 
you forgive me ? Unless you do, I would not dare — ” 

“ I forgive you,” said Ariadne. 

Her look, full of compassion, fell upon the young 
man like a beam of light from above. All the love 
she had suffered was concentrated in that sublime ex- 
pression, full of tenderness and pardon. 

“ But that is not yet enough,” replied Olga. “ Mam- 
ma will never consent to our marriage, after having 
imagined that you were the betrothed. You must 
render us a great service, my good Ariadne. Tell her 
that we love each other, and beg her to consent. . . . 


224 


ARIADNE, 


She will not refuse you. If you knew what confidence 
she had in you, and how much she loves you ! Will 
you do us this pleasure ? ” 

‘‘ Tell the princess that you love each other ? ” said 
Ariadne, slowly. ‘‘Why should I do this, and not 
you?” 

“ Because she thought it was you. She could not, 
at least, he angry with you,” said Olga, innocently. 

Constantin said nothing ; he was in torture. Ari- 
adne’s face, upon which Olga, in her careless selfish- 
ness, saw no fatigue, betrayed to him the expression of 
a heart in despair. 

“I will do my best,” said Ariadne, softly ; “but if 
I fail, you must not blame me.” 

She left them, and returned to the brink of the 
cliff. 

“Look ! ” said she ; “what is yonder ? ” 

A thick fog was advancing from the north ; it 
seemed to float along slowly, but was driven on rap- 
idly by a stiff breeze. It resembled steam issuing 
from a boiling caldron, but more massive and com- 
pact. The cloud moved toward them, ascending the 
cliff, and discovering at intervals the ruggedness of 
the coast. Then it appeared to penetrate the main- 
land, after its passage leaving flakes of mist like tufts 
of wool on the trees of the neighboring farms. A 


ARIADNE. 


225 


coaster’s bark, in the act of tacking about, at some 
distance off, was caught in the cloud, and disappeared 
as if swallowed by a monster ; and then the cloud 
passed on. 

“ That is very strange,” continued Olga. ‘‘ Is the 
fog coming toward us ? ” 

“ Without doubt,” replied Constantin ; “ let us go 
down.” 

‘‘ No, no ; we will stay here.” 

Ariadne’s beautiful profile was brought out clearly, 
as she still stood on the edge of the cliff, with the sky 
for a background. With hands crossed over her breast, 
as if to suppress her suffering, she looked at the sky, 
the sea, the cloud, and wondered why all was so beau- 
tiful, so grand, so poetical, when a human being was 
enduring an agony more frightful than death itself. 

“Tell me, Ariadne,” said Olga, suddenly, “is it 
possible that you have lost your voice ? ” 

“Yes,” replied the artist, without turning around. 

“Try it.” 

Ariadne threw her head back a little, and sang the 
same chromatic scale which had caused scandal at the 
institute two years before. 

Her voice was as pure and velvety as ever, but it 
was but the echo of her old voice — it was so weak. 

“ Sing ‘ 0 mon fils / ’ ” said Olga. 


226 


ARIADNE. 


Ariadne commenced the aria, but stopped at the 
fourth bar. 

“ Look at the cloud ! ” said she ; “ it is upon us ! ” 

All of a sudden the cloud rested on the cliff ; day- 
light disappeared, and it was dark and gloomy. Those 
exposed to it felt a damp coldness, which penetrated 
through their clothing. 

“ Oh ! ” said Olga, “ it Is more beautiful at a dis- 
tance than near to us.” 

‘‘ And so is life,” thought Ariadne. 

“Let us go on,” said Olga. 

The fianch did not leave each other, but they 
could not see Ariadne, who was standing a few steps 
away from them. 

“We must not stir,” cried Constantin. “We can 
no longer see our way ; it would be certain death. 
The sea is on three sides of us ! ” 

“ How wearisome ! I am frozen ! ” said Olga, a 
little impatiently. 

“ Mile. Ariadne, do not move ! ” repeated Ladof. 
“ The cloud will pass by in a moment, by you especi- 
ally, you are so near the edge. Do you hear me ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Ariadne. 

Her voice seemed to come from a distance. She 
was thinking : “ I am one too many in the world, and 
Olga evidently was thrown in my path to teach me so. 


ARIADNE. 


m 


My first suffering was through her ; to-day the man I 
loved has chosen her ! I am a useless creature. . . . 
Art has deceived me. ... I can no longer sing. . . . 
What will my life become ? ” 

A superstitious idea took possession of her. 

“ My hour has come ! I shall know my fate ! If 
I am to live, my star will lead me to safety ; if I am 
to die — ” 

She never finished thought or phrase. She took 
two or three steps in the opaque fog, with her hands 
stretched out to remove all obstacles. 

“ Ariadne ! ” cried Olga. 

There was no response. 

The fog cleared away ; there was already a yellow 
light in the sky which showed where the sun was. 

“ Ariadne ! ” cried Constantin, in a louder tone. 

The fog rolled away from the earth ; the two 
young people were up in a minute ; they looked tow- 
ard the spot where they last saw Ariadne’s profile. 
There was nothing there ! 

Horror-stricken, Constantin dragged himself on the 
grass as far as the brink of the cliff. 

Go back ! go back ! ” cried he to Olga, who 
wished to follow him ; “ go back ! ” 

She is dead ! ” said she, clutching his arm. 

Constantin drew back, sat down on the grass, and 


228 


ARIADNE. 


passed Ids hand over his haggard eyes and disheveled 
hair. 

“We have killed her ! ” said he. 

The tide went out. When the two young people 
returned to the hotel, the princess saw that they were 
alone ; and when the fisheimen made the tour of the 
beach, now almost dry, they found Ariadne lying on 
the great white polished flag-stone which she had ad- 
mired. 

The kindly wave had dashed her clothing around 
her, and her beautiful face had the same sad smile 
which had of late been seen so often on her lips. 

The princess divined at once the catastrophe, and 
her daughter’s love for Ladof ; at the same time the 
lips of Olga trembled as she spoke. 

“ Do you believe it an accident ? ” said the prin- 
cess, with contempt, to the lovers. “ I tell you, you 
have killed her ! I would rather have had for my 
daughter her who is lying there dead than the selfish, 
heartless child God has given me ! ” 

However, every mother forgives ; and the two 
young people returned to Russia a few days after, os- 
tensibly engaged. 

Ariadne sleeps in the little cemetery of ^tretat. 
Deserted in life, so was she in death. The princess 
paid a gardener to renew the flowers on her grave 


ARIADNE, 


239 


regularly, but be never places any there except during 
the bathing season. What is the use of taking care 
of a grave which nobody visits ? 

Morini received the money for his lessons, and 
swore he would never train another pupil. He always 
weeps when he speaks of Ariadne. 

“ Such a lovely voice ! ” said he. So much tal- 
ent ! so much heart ! but not made for the theatre ! ” 
From time to time Ladof thinks of Ariadne. He 
is very happy with Olga ; but there are moments when 
he thinks that she who is dead knew better how to 
love. 


THE END. 















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the descriptive portions, especially of out-door life, are picturesque and ani- 
mated, and the whole is distinguished by grace and delicacy.”— Gazette. 

” ‘ Gerard’s Marriage ’ is as exquisite of its kind as Tennyson’s ‘ Princess,’ 
and its moral is that of the old song, ‘Love will find out the way.’”— 
York Express. 

” The use of these simple materials is so artistic, and the story is so deftly 
told, that the hook is delightful from beginning to end .” — Detroit Post. 

“ The story is pleasant, the characters drawn with that light, firm touch, pe- 
culiar to a Frenchman ; the colloquy, if not brilliant, always to the purpose, and 
about the whole there plays a poetic light that is not the less charming because 
it is so wholly French. ”—New York World. 

*‘ Andre Theuriet excels in the painting of rural scenes, and the skillful 
management of romantic comedy.”— Inter-Ocean. 

*‘ The story is told, particularly the trials of the lovers, with great vivacity 
and brilliancy, in which particulars the French seem to excel all other nations.” 
—Boston Commonwealth. 

‘‘Affords a charming illustration of the exceeding elegance, refinement, and 
delicacy, that mark the romances of Andre Theuriet, one of the most graceful 
and popular French novelists of the present time .” — Providence Jouinol. 


New York: D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers. 


S P I R I T E: 

A FANTASY. 

FROM THE FRENCH OF TH^OPHILE GAUTIER. 

(Forming No. 3 of the “ Collection of Foreign Authors.”) 

Paper cover^ 60 cents ; cloth^ 76 cents. 


“ The third volume of the Appletons’ popular ‘ Collection of For- 
eign Authors ’ is one of the most remarkable books that we ever 
remember to have read. It is written by a great master of romance, 
the late Theophile Gautier, and is characterized by him as ‘ A Fan- 
tasy.’ It belongs to the same class of imaginative creation as 
‘ Undine,’ and is managed with most extraordinary skill. . . . An 
exquisite prose poem, as glowing and pure as Keats’s ‘ Eve of St. 
Agnes.’ ” — New York Express. 

“ The artistic effect of this fantasy is very fine. It appeals to 
that love of the supernatural which exists, active or dormant, in 
almost every human heart.” — Utica Daily Observer. 

“ The glowing, picturesque style of the author makes the story 
very attractive reading.” — Boston Gazette. 

“ It exercises a subtile spell, a fascination over the reader, which 
compels him to go on to the end. Although it deals with th^e super- 
natural, it is filled with the beautiful things of earth and of human 
life.” — Utica Herald. 

“A very interesting little story, in which what is now called ma- 
terialization is very gracefully idealized, and in which communion 
with departed spirits is shown in its most attractive aspects.” — 
Boston Courier. 

“ The story is very cleverly woven, and, when once in the reader’s 
hands, we venture to say that it will be perused to the last line be- 
fore it is laid aside.” — N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 

“ The ethereal'grace and subtilty of this sparkling fantasy lift 
it into the fairy realm, and give to it the liquid beauty of the dia- 
mond.” — Albany (N. Y.) Argus. 

“ Now we have Theophile Gautier’s matchless fantasy of ‘ Spirite,’ 
full of sweet mysticism, of revelation, of personality, and of gorgeous 
language and imagery.” — Sunday Herald (Washington). 

“ Gautier tells the fantastic story with an inimitable purity and 
grace that will delight readers of cultivated imagination, especially 
those whose metaphysical tastes find interesting material for thought 
in the shadowy realms within the gates that lead to the life immor- 
tal.” — Providence Journal. 

D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, Broadway, N. Y. 


THE TOWER OF PERCEMONT 


From the French of GEORGE SAND. 
Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, 75 cents. 


From the New York World. 

“It is characteristically charming. In it love — that passion all of whose manifes- 
tations and varieties George Sand has shown us better than any other novelist, perhaps 
— is treated with a delicacy and sweetness that recall * Monsieur Sylvestre ; * and the 
grace inseparable from George Sand's writings marks the work throughout." 

From the New York Evening Post. 

“Characteristic of its author. The narrative is full of action, and the dialogue is 
sprightly, and often spirited. There is enough both of interest in the incidents and 
variety in the characters agreeably to beguile an hour stolen from the ordinary fatigues 
of life.” . V 

From the New York Commercial Advertiser. 

“As a story of French provincial life, it introduces us to the middle classes, and to 
many strong and interesting characters. The book will be widely read, and its simple 
naturalness treasured.” 

From the New York Sun. 

“So boundless were the stores of observation accumulated by this writer, and such 
the expertness acquired by the incessant practice of a long life that, during her last 
years, she was able to throw off stories of more than average charm with extraordinary 
celerity. * The Tower of Percemont' was well worth translation.” 

From the Springfield Republican. 

“ The heroine of this ' Tower of Percemont' is a new variety of the womanly char- 
acter which George Sand spent her long life in delineating, without ever reproducing 
the same exact type. The story is interesting in itself, and continues so until the end, 
while the characters are clearly drawn.” 

From the Boston Commonwealth. 

“It was the last work of the famous novelist, and is worthy of her fame. The story 
is essentially French, and displays the author’s sparkle and grace of manner, being 
full of love and romance, while there is a skillfully-constructed and ingenious plot.” 

From the Providence Journal. 

“ It is a charming transcript of French provincial life, glowing with the inspiration 
of a keen sense of natural beauty; the characters are vigorously outlined, the coloring 
is vivid and artistically blended, and the plot is ingeniously developed, and full of 
touches true to life.” 


D. APPLETON & CO., 549 & 551 Broadway, New York. 


META HOLDENIS. 

From the French of VICTOR CHERBULIEZ, 

Author of “ Samuel Brohl and Company,” etc. 

Paper, 50 cents. ... Cloth, 75 cents. 


From the New York Evening Post. 

" The story is a good one in itself, wholly unlike the story we expect in a novel. 
M. Cherbuliez is an artist, a genius, to whom all things are possible; else his success 
in writing this story in another than his own personality — creating a distinct individual, 
and then making his creature tell it from his own point of view, with perfect verisimili- 
tude — would have been impossible. It is admirable in itself, and as an example of the 
high art of narration.” 

Fro7n the New York Express. 

“A powerful story, whose characters are clearly portrayed, and whose accessories 
of landscapes and the like are beautifully painted.” 

From the New York World. 

“Cherbuliez is, after Balzac and George Sand, the first novelist of France. He is 
more of an artist, and has more insight into human motives and actions, than other con- 
temporary French novelists.” 

From the New York Sun. 

“A companion-piece to ‘Samuel Brohl and Company,’ and a book which should 
renew the notable success gained by the English version of the latter novel. In the 
present volume we trace the fortunes of a winsome and insinuating governess, so hap- 
pily fashioned by Nature for strategy and wiles as to continually delude herself. As 
we have previously spoken of Cherbuliez in connection with ‘ Samuel Brohl and Com- 
pany,’ we need only add that the action of ‘ Meta Holdenis ’ is somewhat more fervid 
and vigorous, and the development of the plot more piquant to curiosity. We com- 
mend it to the reader as the most captivating translation from the French which has 
been printed in a twelvemonth.” 

From the Philadelphia Item. 

“ * Meta Holdenis ’ holds the attention of the reader throughout, as the analysis of 
character; the dialogue, the descriptions, and the details of the novel, are all in Cher- 
buliez’s most animated and sparkling manner.” 

From the Hartford Courant. 

“ Anything more skillfully wrought out than the character of ‘ Meta Holdenis’ wo 
have not met in a long time.” 

From the Boston Courier. 

“ The story is artfully contrived and graphically told, with that genius for the dex- 
frrous management of details which all Frenchmen seem to possess in some measure, 
but v/hich M. Cherbuliez has In an eminent degree.” 


D. APPLETON & CO., 549 & 551 Broadway, New York. 


ROMANCES OF THE EAST. 

( Nouvelles A sia tiques. ) 

From the French of COMTE DE GOJBIXEAU. 

Paper 6o cents ; cloth, $i.oo. 

From the New York Sun. 

“ The writer, who is still in the diplomatic service of France, was at one time min- 
ister at Teheran, and in one of the stories here collected has given us a singularly viva- 
cious and faithful sketch of Persian manners. As studies in local color these stories 
will be prized, yet they have considerable literary merit. Here and there, as in the 
Persian tale called the ‘ History of Gamber-Aly,' there are gleams of veritable humor. 
There is at all times a briskness in these narratives which in one instance is wrought up 
to dramatic intensity.” 

From the New York World. 

“It is as studies of the Asiatic temperament and character that these stories are to 
be considered, and so considered they are easily seen to be admirable, M. de Gobi- 
neau’s faculty of observation is surprisingly acute, his carefulness in generalization is 
far greater than that of many of his countrymen, and his powers as a writer are emi- 
nent.” 

From the New York Herald. 

“ D. Appleton & Co. are doing a good work with their ‘Collection of Foreign Au- 
thors,’ by introducing us to books and authors that are comparatively unknown in 
America. Under the title of * Romances of the East ’ this firm has published the Comte 
de Gobineau’s exquisite little ‘Nouvelles Asiatiques.’ It is almost impossible to be- 
lieve that he is not a native Persian; his stories have all the knowledge and sentiment 
of a native author. If the book receives the welcome it deserves, its success is assured.” 

Frojn the New York Evening Express. 

“These stories are radiant with the light of the Orient. ‘The Dancing-Girl of 
Shamakha’ is a fearful exhibit of the sort of life and society, inebriety, injustice, and 
immorality, that obtains in countries overrun by the Russians. ‘ The History of Gam- 
bfer-Aly,’ as a picture of the inner high life of Persia, is wonderful, and its hero takes 
his place in fiction with the rogues of Moliere and the inimitable Gil Bias. In ‘ The 
War with the Turkomans ’ we see, as never before, the interior and exterior life of the 
Persian military power. ‘ The Illustrious Magician ’ has for its moral that love is the 
greatest magician, and ‘ The Lovers of Kandahar ' is an exquisite and terrible tragedy 
of an Oriental Romeo and Juliet. We are not sure that this volume is not the best yet 
published in this popular ‘ Collection of Foreign Authors.’ ” 

From the Boston Daily Globe. 

“ Interesting enough, considered merely as fiction, the volume is far more valuable 
as a collection of studies of national character. The author divines the Orient with 
that perfect consistency which makes French literary portraiture seem as accurate as 
a reflection in a mirror.” 


D. APPLETON & CO., 549 & 551 Broadway, New York. 


RENEE AND FRANZ. 

(LE BLEUET.) 

From the French of Gustave Haller. 

PAPER, SO CENTS. . . . CLOTH, 7B CENTS. 


From Note by George Sand. 

“ I believe, in spite of the pseudonym, that this charming hook is the 
work of a woman. Here are refinements of sentiment and of analytical 
research which seem to me to belong to a mind more penetrating and also 
more circumscribed than that of a man. The author is well versed in the 
study of the most opposite characters, and all the types given stand out in 
hold relief. The plot seems to he excellent, artistic, and not overdrawn. 
The public will he sure to encourage this remarkable effort of an exceed- 
ingly refined man or of a very powerfully-gifted woman.” 

From “ Le National.'’' 

“ Mme. Gustave Haller’s novel is, in the true sense of the word, an idyl, 
an eclogue, and its theme at once new and daring. Having chosen for her 
subject the theory, not generally admitted, of friendship between two per- 
sons of opposite sexes, the authoress has rendered it very acceptable, and 
given it a color of verisimilitude.” 

From the “ Bevue de France." 

“ Whoever he or she may be, Gustave Haller is certainly the possessor 
of great talent and virile energy, and must have fought valiantly, and with 
a high head, in the battle of life. It is a book in which grace and originality 
go hand in hand ; it belongs to the psychological class, and depth of study 
and the variety of characters constitute its chief merit.” 

From the ” JJnivers IllustrL" 

“ The interest is captivating, and the movement of the narrative irre- 
sistibly rapid. Open the book and you will find it very diflicult to close it 
before you have reached the end. The style has nerve, savor, and origi- 
nality.” 

From “ Le Tintamarre." 

‘‘A novel of sentiment, at once exquisitely delicate and witty, written 
with precision and elegance, a book in which none of the necessary ele- 
ments of success have been omitted. It is one of those novels that ought 
to be, must be, read. It carries in it a perfume of uprightness and purity 
which none can fail to observe.” 

From the “ Charivari." 

“An interesting book. This Gustave, in my mind, gives evidence of 
wearing skirt, s; yet the work is full of virility. It is a studied novel, and 
worthy the preface by George Sand. What more can be said ? ” 

D. APPLETON (2r* CO., Publishers, 

649 & 651 Broadway, New York. 


MADAME GOSSELIN. 


A NOVEL. 

From the French of LOUIS ULBACH. 


(^Forming No. VIII. of Appletons^ Collection of Foreign Authors.”') 


16ino. Paper cover, 60 cents. . . Cloth, $1.00. 


“ ‘Madame Qosselin’ is an admirable novel. M. TJlbach’s characters are 
discovered to us in a masterly way, and with the finest gradations. One’s in- 
terest is not only preserved but quickened from the start; hew facts, with inti- 
mate bearings upon the personages whom they concern, are one after another 
related with the nicest sense. To remain unacquainted with M. Pleumeur is to 
remain in ignorance of one of the best personages in modern fiction.”— iV. Y. 
World. 

“Another of Appletons’ remarkable series of short foreign stories. It is an 
extremely moral story, but of absorbing interest and full of fine touches.” — 
A^. T. Graphic. 

“ ‘Madame Gosselin’ is a really notable novel of the kind which everybody 
must read who tries to keep up with current literature.”— Y. Evening Fast. 

“ The reader is held in constant suspense, and turns each page with breath- 
less interest as the incidents are unfolded.”— A". Y. Mail. 

“A worthy successor to the two stories by Cherbuliez in Appletons’ ‘Collec- 
tion of Foreign Authors.’ The translator has acquitted himself well; the exe- 
cution will bear sharp scrutiny. There are both strength and novelty in the 
motive of the work; the construction is compact, and the movement of the plot 
swift and straightforward.”- A. Y. Sun. 

“It is an intensely powerful story, of a high order of merit. It is especially 
strong in its characters ; and one of them, a self-retained and strong-willed re- 
cluse, is drawn with masterly force and impressive vividness. The plot is deeply 
interesting.” — Boston Gazette. 

“A powerfully-written novel, and one that shows remarkable ability in the 
dissection of character.” — Boston Courier. 

“ One of the best of the series. The interest never flaes. The tale has been 
translated with care, skill, and accuxQ.o.y.'"— Philadelphia Press. 

“ The interest of the work is unflagging throughout, while aU its details are 
managed in a skillful and admirable manner. The word-coloring of the char- 
acters is a noticeable feature, while in conversation, comment, and description, 
the author is equally felicitous.” — Philadelphia Item. 

“The story is hurried along, chapter after chapter, with railroad speed. 
There is no lingering over landscape descriptions, no moralizing, no philosophy. 
The concentration is undeviating, almost fierce. Some of the passages, as that 
painting Pleumeur’s suicide, are marvels of force and skill.”— I7i!ica Daily Ob- 
server. 

“Its plot is ingenious; its construction admirable; its style good. It is 
vivacious, delicate, romantic, artistic, and charrning: it is a novel which will 
delight American readers.” — Detroit Post and Tribune. 

D. APPLETON CO., 549 (Sr ’ 551 Broadtvay, N. Y. 


WELL TOLD, BRLGHT, AND ORIGINALT 


Mrs. Sherwood’s Society ITovel, 

TIE SAECASl OP BESTHY; 

OR, 

NINA’S EXPERIENCE. 


I'lmo, cloth, $1.50. Sent post-paid on receipt of price » 


The personages are sharply drawn as individuals, and their doings, which make 
up the story, are the natural doings of precisely such persons as they are.” — N. Y. 
Evening Post. 

“ Mrs. Sherwood is too well known to American novel-readers to need any intro- 
duction on our part. There is a plentiful display of wit and strong dramatic power 
throughout the book. It is by all means one of the most attractive novels of the 
season.” — Boston Journal of Commerce. 

“ It is a well-constructed and entertaining novel of American society under home 
and foreign influences. The author has a keen sense of humor, and a disposition to 
satirize the hypocrisy, pretense, and fraud, in the following of the great god ‘ Sham.’ ” 
— Philadelphia Daily Evening Telegraph. 

“The story is a good one, strongly American in tone and incident, and exceedingly 
vigorous in style. The plot is not deep, but the interest is admirably sustained through- 
out” — Detroit Free Press. 

“The writer Is certainly not a new hand at putting a story together. The plot is 
a very interesting one, and the conversations exceedingly spicy and well written; in 
fact, the novel is one of the best of the season.” — Buffalo Courier. 

“ A very entertaining and pleasant novel, giving a glimpse therein of the inside of 
society In New York and Washingion. It deserves to have hosts of readers. The 
authoress is a master of ivcxxon." —Auburn Daily Advertiser. 

“A spicy, exciting, sensational, and inside view of New York and Washington 
society. The author is widely known as a brilliant correspondent, and is so thoroughly 
conversant with the subjects and persons chosen for treatment, that her portraitures 
will be received with more than ordinary attention.” — Albany Times. 


D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, New York. 




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COLLECTION OF FOREIGN AUTHORS. 


The design of the “Collection of Foreign Authors ” is to give selec- 
tions from the better current light literature of France, Germany, and 
other countries of the European Continent, translated by competent 
hands. The series is published in uniform i6mo volumes, at a low 
price, and bound in paper covers and in cloth. 


PAPKR. CLOTH. 

I. SAMUEL BROHL AND COMPANY. A Novel. 

From the French of Victor Cherbuliez - - $0.60 $1.00 

II. GERARD' S MARRIAGE. A Novel. From the 

French of Andre Theuriet .50 .75 

III. SPIRITE. A Fantasy. From the French of Theo- 

PHiLE Gautier .50 .75 

IV. THE TOWER OF PERCEMONT. From the 


French of George Sand .50 .75 

V. META HOLDENIS. A Novel. From the French 

of Victor Cherbuliez - .50 .75 

VI. ROMANCES OF THE EAST. From the French 

of Comte de Gobineau - - .60 i.oo 

VII. RENEE AND FRANZ. From the French of 

Gustave Haller .50 .75 

VIII. MADAME GOSSELIN. From the French of 

Louis Ulbach .60 i.oo 

IX. THE GODSON OF A MARQUIS. From the 

French of Andre Theuriet .50 .75 

X. ARIADNE. From the French of Henry Gre- 

VILLE -50 *75 


OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

“ *G6rard’s Marriage’ is as exquisite in its form, color, and delicacy, as a choice piece 
of Sevres porcelain.” — Literacy World. 

” ‘ Samuel Brohl and Company,’ in short, deserves attention, as being the ripest and 
most captivating performance of one of the first novelists now living in France.” — N. Y. 
Siin. 

“ ‘ Spirite ’ exercises a subtile spell, a fascination over the reader, which compels him 
to go on to the end.” — Utica HeraJd. 

” ‘ The Tower of Percemont ’ is equal to the best of George Sand’s smaller romances: 
the portraits of all her characters are skillfully drawn, and the descriptions of Nature 
are exquisite. When shall we see another such a writer?” — Express. 

” ‘ Meta Holdenis ’ is altogether admirable, both in itself and as an example of the high 
art of 't\ 2 xr^.X\or\.'’ —Evening Post. 

D. APPLETON CO., Publishers, New York. 

*** Either of the above volumes sent by mail, post-paid, to any address in the United 
States or Canada, upon receipt of the price. 



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